Primal Kill (The Order of Vampires #5)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

R uth was having tea in the den and watching her morning shows while they gathered in the library to formulate a plan.

“We need to go after him before he comes after us,” Dane insisted. “Now that we know exactly what we’re dealing with, we can’t hold anything back. Juniper, how’s the research going? Have you made any headway.”

“I’m no Gandalf yet, but I think I passed Disney fairy stage. Watch.” She shoved her hands into the air and the table jerked three inches left.

Adriel pushed it back. “I don’t want you or Juniper endangering yourselves on my account.”

“We’ve been over this, Ade. If we try to handle him like a pack of pacifistic Amish, he’s going to annihilate us. We have to fight.”

“She’s right,” Dane agreed. “And we can’t fight back. Defense starts at a disadvantage. We need to start on the offensive and go at him hard. ”

“Cerberus will not hesitate to kill both of you,” she argued. “He knows we share a bond. He’ll use it to hurt me.”

“Can we die?” Dane asked, true curiosity in his eyes. “Seriously, what are the rules with half-breeds? And what about Juniper? Are witches mortal?”

“Juniper can burn herself with magic so I’d say she’s far from invincible.”

He pulled back his sleeve. “Well, my arm was mangled and I had cuts that should have taken weeks to heal, but a few drops of your blood and boom —I was good as new.”

Juniper kept quiet, not wanting either of them to realize how much the magick actually drained her. There was still some lingering internal damage that Adriel’s blood didn’t heal. She wasn’t sure if those internal scars would ever fully go away, but she also wasn’t going to let such a mere concern work as an excuse to avoid Cerberus.

“I still think the wisest plan would be to relocate,” Adriel argued.

“No,” both she and Dane barked at once.

Dane stood and paced. “The other night, he had the element of surprise on his side. That’s over now. I say we go after him like the buffalo rush the rain.”

Both she and Adriel frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Buffalo hate the rain,” he explained. “When storms come, they have three choices: run away from it and keep running until it eventually wears them out and they get wet anyway, stand still and do nothing as they suffer through it, or run towards it. If they run toward the rain, they shorten their suffering. It’s the fastest way to get through the unavoidable. And probably the least painful.”

Juniper liked that plan, but could tell Adriel wasn’t sold. “Cerberus is an inevitable conflict we’ll eventually have to face, Ade. Why not confront him now and end this so you can have your life back?”

Adriel frowned. “Aren’t buffalo extinct?”

“Endangered.” Dane waved a hand at the stacks of books covering the table. “Juniper could do a locator spell so we know exactly where he is and then?—”

“No. We are not delivering ourselves to him.”

Juniper considered Dane’s suggestion. Could she find Cerberus? She’d been able to locate Dane because she knew him. “I don’t know if a locator spell will work.”

“See,” Adriel said with too much relief. “That plan won’t work. It’s too dangerous anyway.”

“Then we need to find his weakness. What do you remember about him? There has to be something?”

Adriel shook her head. “No. He doesn’t have a weakness.”

“Everyone has a weakness, Ade.”

“Not him. He’s stronger than any immortal I’ve ever come across. He’s beyond vicious and he won’t stop until he feels I’ve suffered for what we did to him centuries ago.”

“Then he has to die—before he gets the chance to hurt you.”

“He can’t die.”

“Everything can die.”

Juniper shook her head. “She’s right. As her mate, if we kill him, we risk also hurting Adriel. It’s too dangerous.”

Dane frowned. “You’re saying your life is legitimately tied to his?”

Adriel nodded solemnly. “It’s why they didn’t kill him the first time. Mates often share pleasure and pain once they’ve bonded.”

“Jesus,” Dane cursed. “So, when they cut him up, you felt it?”

She frowned. “I was already in so much pain that I was in and out of consciousness. I can’t fully recall the details of that night.”

“Well, this complicates things.”

Juniper pulled the oldest grimoire closer. “We’re going to use magick. It’s the only way to protect Adriel and see that he’s disabled once and for all.”

“June, that’s too much pressure on you.”

“No, it’s not. I’m part immortal, remember? If I get a little banged up, we can fix it. Plus, I’ve got my witchy freak gene we’ve yet to identify. I’m a force to be reckoned with.”

Dane rolled his eyes. “Let’s not get too cocky. ”

“I’m not saying it to sound cocky. I feel more powerful than I’ve ever felt. There’s something strong hiding inside of me.”

“Yeah, it’s called immortal blood. We all feel like that after we feed. Then it fades.”

She shook her head. “No, this is something else.”

Juniper hadn’t told them about the presence of spirits she’d felt recently. Mostly because she wasn’t sure if they’d believe her. Her aunts used to talk about ghosts, and it was the fastest way to clear a room. But now, Juniper believed they were telling the truth.

Spirits helped witches. They supercharged magical energy like no other element could. The more she welcomed their assistance, the easier it became to call upon them.

Some of the spirits were even developing personalities she recognized, sort of like auras that gave away secrets about their lives when they were living. Those secrets whispered to her through visions more than words, but Juniper was getting pretty good at reading the imagery they shared.

One spirit was burned. Another had indigenous roots that pre-dated the discovery of America. And one was a feisty Creole woman steeped in voodoo practices. Her name was Jacinta and she had been born and raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She died hanging from a branch, and her last sight on Earth was the Mississippi River swaying under a sky full of stars .

They all had tragic endings, but none of them were evil spirits. If anything, they wanted to help her defend Adriel because they, too, had suffered unjustly in their lifetime.

“That may be true, but you would still be risking your life, June. It’s too dangerous.”

“We’re already risking our lives by simply sitting here. Cerberus could strike at any moment, so the best plan is to be prepared. Dane’s right. We need to consider his weaknesses and our personal strengths.”

She understood Adriel was scared and did not want to jeopardize their safety, but their lives were already at stake. Juniper was not going to sit idly by while some deranged vampire fuck tormented her like this.

“Do I have a voice here?” Adriel asked, with notable irritation.

“Of course.”

“Then why can’t anyone hear me?”

“We hear you, Ade?—”

“But you’re not listening. I know him better than anyone. He has no weaknesses, and he won’t stop until he has me. Then he’ll hurt me. The fastest way to do that is by going after you two or my son.”

“Adriel,” Dane said calmly, “If that were true, you never would have escaped him the first time.”

“It is true. He’s done it before. He went back and slaughtered my siblings to punish me. We cannot underestimate his cruelty. And I only managed to get away the first time because I had the help of the elders. They’re not helping anymore because they know there is no escaping an immortal’s destined fate.”

“Maybe they’re just gone because they’re a bunch of selfish assholes,” Juniper mumbled. “And fuck them anyway. He’s not your destiny.”

Adriel sighed. “Your disdain for the elders can’t alter my fate?—”

“Because you won’t let it! If you want a better life, Adriel, you have to fight for it. You can’t just passively wish things will change.”

“Okay, okay.” Dane stepped between them. “Let’s all take a breath. We’re on the same side.”

Adriel scowled, and she wouldn’t meet her eyes. Juniper understood confrontation wasn’t her forte, but doing nothing wasn’t an option. She continued to brainstorm possible soft spots in Cerberus’s defenses. Even Achilles had a heel that left him unprotected.

“What about his DNA?” she asked. “There was something different about his fangs.”

“I saw that, too.” Dane nodded. “They weren’t like ours. They reminded me of a python.”

Adriel frowned. “We all have different teeth. Dane’s fangs are shorter than mine. And June’s are thinner when they extend. What does it matter?”

“Ours are different because we’re half-breeds.”

Juniper frowned. “We’re certain he’s a purebred, right? ”

“Only purebred immortals can be called.”

She hated every reminder that this psycho was Adriel’s mate and somehow part of her soul.

“We could test his blood,” Dane suggested. “That’s how the bishop found out what was in my DNA.”

“What are we supposed to do, roll up with a Red Cross bus in the middle of a fucking war? Come on, Dane. You saw what he’s like. We can’t get near him.”

“Gandalf could do it,” Dane mumbled as he paced to the bookcase. Cocking his head, he examined the numerous spines.

“Are you looking for something?”

He grunted and moved to the small desk tucked in the corner, where he rifled through old bills and papers stashed in the drawers.

Juniper frowned and looked at Adriel. “I know you’re scared, but I believe in us. We can do this.”

Dane moved to the window.

Juniper ignored him and focused on convincing Adriel. “I’m working on some new spells with fire.” The curtains opened, bathing the study in a distractingly bright light. “Dane, what are you doing?”

Rather than answer, he just stared out the window.

“Dane?” Juniper went to his side but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “Hey, earth to Dane.” She snapped her fingers in his face, and he jolted.

“Huh? ”

“What are you doing? You were just staring like a zombie.”

“I…I don’t know. I was looking for something.”

“Landmarks,” Adriel whispered, and the hairs on Juniper’s neck stood up. “That’s how he must have found us before. He’s getting into our heads.”

A wave of panic rushed through Juniper. “There must be a tear in the protection spell.”

Adriel rushed to the bow window and yanked the curtains shut. “I found myself doing the same thing the other day.” She clutched her throat and paled. “He’s going to find us.”

Juniper mentally checked the spell and frowned. “It has to be something else. Everything’s intact. There’s no breach.”

“He already did it once with me when you were unconscious,” Adriel argued, her body tense and her voice high-pitched with panic. “He must have found a loophole.”

“No, I checked. It’s like Fort Knox up here.” Juniper pointed to her skull.

“How do you hold the spell while you sleep?” Dane shaded his eyes and focused only on the floor.

Juniper shrugged. “I sort of set it like a watch. But I can tell when someone breaks through.”

“Some immortals are travelers.” Adriel’s voice fell quiet. “They latch on to a host and can co-exist inside of their mind for decades undetected. ”

Dane curled his lip. “Like a parasite?”

“Exactly.” Adriel shook her head. “He was always private about his disciplines. He could have hidden such a thing from me. I was young and knew very little back then.”

A sense of paranoia drifted through the room like a draft of noxious gas. “Everyone stay away from the windows until we figure this out.” Juniper paged through the grimoires, searching for any reference to such things.

“How do they get in?” Dane asked.

“I’m not sure. It’s a very rare discipline.”

“Ugh, I feel so…violated.” Dane scrubbed his head as if it were infested with lice. “What if he’s inside of me right now? How do I get him out?”

“I’m looking. Let me concentrate!” Juniper blocked out their questions and focused on finding some actual answers. “I found something.”

She turned the book because the page had more hand-drawn illustrations than words. It depicted a physical body entering the mind of another.

“What’s that say?” Dane pointed to the inscription at the top of the page.

“ Fantasi theid. It means thief of imagination. They commandeer other people’s visions and can even alter their thoughts. I think he was doing it to me on the mountain. I was completely paranoid with crippling anxiety, but it wasn’t me thinking those things. As soon as I realized it was him, I pushed him out. ”

“How?”

Juniper shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…did.” She hunched over the book, her finger dragging down the inscription as she mumbled through the spell written in tongues. “Okay, both of you sit down and shut your eyes. Try to clear your minds.”

They did as she said, with two very different results.

“Adriel, your aura’s literally buzzing with cognitive activity. You need to push everything out so I can find any unwanted presence and block it.”

“I’m picturing a black room,” Dane said, eyes closed. “Do me first.”

Juniper placed her hands on his head and whispered the words of the incantation. The spirits rushed toward her in a wave that let her know they were there and a low humming started in her ear, as if they were also whispering the spell from a different plane. Dane swayed and grunted. His body shook subtly then she found something—a shadow that seemed to cloak his frontal lobe.

He jerked as she latched onto the presence. Her voice grew louder, as did the buzzing in her ears. Invisible hands pressed into her back and shoulders, encouraging and lending strength.

Dane’s body shook violently as if electricity were rushing through her.

“Are you hurting him? ”

Juniper kept her focus, reciting the spell to completion and not taking her mental hold off of that shadow. Her eyes closed, and she imagined it shrinking away, much like a puddle dries up in the sun. The buzzing escalated into a roar, and then there was a strange vip, and all was silent.

Panting, she released Dane’s head, and he collapsed to the floor. Adriel gasped and rushed to his side. “Dane! Look at me, Dane. Can you hear me?”

He groaned and rubbed his head, sounding as if he were about to be ill. Adriel helped him sit up and steadied him as he swayed. “That was… Ugh . I’d like to never do that again.”

Adriel looked up at Juniper with wide eyes. “I don’t want that.”

The whispers hissed behind her like rushing water, muffling Adriel and Dane’s words. She frowned at the strange tinnitus. “Would you rather have Cerberus in your mind?”

Adriel shrank a little. “No.”

“I’ll be as gentle as I can.” She needed to finish this before she lost her strength and the chatter in her head got any louder. “Clear your mind so I can do it quickly.”

Adriel nodded and sat in the chair, folding her hands in her lap. Her body was tense, and her eyes shut tight. “Do it.”

Loathe to hurt her, Juniper reluctantly placed her hands on either side of her skull. Her energy slammed into a hard, sonar-like wall .

“What the…?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Your mind’s completely blocked to me. I can’t get past whatever barrier you’re using.” Perhaps they weren’t ready for this level of trust. Some secrets should stay private. But this was the only way Juniper knew how to check if Cerberus was in Adriel’s head. “Can you let me in?”

“I’m trying.”

If she was trying, there should have been a crack or a slit of light—some sort of opening to push through, but it was all blocked.

“I’m only looking for signs of a trespasser. I’ll be quick—just long enough to locate any unwanted presence and push it out.”

Divots formed in Adriel’s brow as she concentrated harder, her eyes still pinched shut.

Juniper adjusted her hands on her head. “You’re still blocking me.”

“I need time. I’m old. I’ve been blocking my thoughts for centuries. I’m not as malleable as I once was.” Her face strained with concentration. “There.”

Juniper located the slight crack and pressed into her mind. She expected similar traces of the shadow she saw in Dane’s head, but that was not at all what she found.

There was no preparing for the savage reality she discovered in Adriel’s mind, and as unbiased as she tried to be, it startled her into sharp judgment. Not the critical kind, but the terrified, survival kind. He was there. Everywhere. Scars of his presence ate up the terrain of her mind in ways Juniper didn’t understand.

Was this what mating did when immortals shared a bond? He was embedded in her like a disease.

“Did you find anything?”

“Still looking.” She concentrated on following the tattered thread of her psyche, ignoring everything else and dragging her touch back to the part of the brain that hid behind the left ear where the frayed edges of her memories began. The whispers in Juniper’s mind went quiet and all she could hear were voices from another time.

A beautiful woman carried a basket and spoke in a language Juniper didn’t recognize. There was a village. Huts freckled the land, constructed of mud, stone walls, and thatched roofs. A man with dark hair and piercing eyes took the basket from the female. She looked like Adriel.

Her parents. They were her parents.

Juniper repeated the incantation, pushing further into her mind. If she could find the first intrusion of his presence, she might also discover one of his weaknesses. Anything to help them better understand his motives would be in their favor.

She sensed the slightest incidence of him in Adriel’s mind when she was only a young girl—thirteen, possibly fourteen years old. Then several long winters passed in waiting .

Her memories were tarnished by time but also blurred as if she intentionally tried to smudge them out. A dark murky haze disguised her girlish excitement as she waited through long bouts of anticipation for her mate to come.

Then, his physical presence pierced the timeline like an ice pick.

“Get up, girl.”

That merciless voice sent shivers down Juniper’s spine as she recognized his evil. Adriel’s remembered fear added to her own as she watched the memory unfold. She’d been rightfully nervous but for all the wrong reasons. The young girl believed he was good and would love and protect her.

The hope and relief she experienced when he awoke her in her childhood bed contrasted harshly with the cruel reality that followed. Ripped from her home and plunged into the cold, dark night, he took her without a single show of affection. He denied her the chance to say goodbye to her family, and when she cried, her tears were met with harsh censure and threats.

Then came the truth of who he was, how he was, and the bottomless brutality that defined all he would ever be. Her innocence was shattered in every way possible and Juniper suffered through the memories as she searched for more traces of him. But Adriel’s disappointment was the most unbearable of all, far worse than the memory of the pain .

She’d been so pure and full of hope. The little girl in her dreamed of bein a good partner, deserving of her mate’s love. She’d done everything she could to please him, but all of her kindness was met with brutal cruelty and he slowly broke her down until the last of her hope fell away.

He truly was incapable of love. Love didn’t lash out. Love didn’t hit. Love didn’t lie. Love didn’t manipulate or harm.

He was a monster.

The mental lashes kept mounting, and the beatings never waned. The years they spent together were bleak. A barren wasteland of servitude and inescapable abuse. It wore on Juniper more than the actual use of magick did, and she wished she could pull out of the nightmare, but there seemed to be no escape in sight.

Speeding ahead, Juniper waited for the suffering to end, but it went on and on. Adriel’s loss. Her infinite grief. It was incomprehensible how anyone could be so cold and cruel to someone so innocent.

Juniper couldn’t stomach the full extent of his abuse, so she skimmed as much as possible. These were ugly little secrets, and Adriel deserved privacy. The physical abuses were gutting, but they were nothing compared to the mental scars.

Young Adriel tried to fight him, tried to stand up to him, but he taught her an unforgettable lesson about the cost of courage. The fucker went back and killed her siblings, bringing her trinkets of them for proof. She accepted defeat the day he gifted her with her youngest brother’s severed head. After that, she lived a life of barren resignation and pain.

The fucker broke her every which way a female could be broken, leaving nothing but cold, hollow fear. Adriel existed in a state of crippling tension, never knowing what would trigger his fury.

Her needs meant nothing to him. He used her body like a slave in every possible way. He owned her so profoundly that she lost sight of herself.

And when her cycle was late and she learned a baby lived inside of her, she feared she’d done something wrong. She worried he’d cut it out of her or, worse, let it grow and fill her arms so he had one more thing to rip away.

Her protectiveness for her son sparked a willingness to survive. She hid her body and never told him she was with child. It was during that time that she met an accidental friend.

The Bishop. Juniper recognized him right away. Immortals were handy like that, other than their clothes and style of dress, they never changed.

Eleazar tried to help Adriel, but when Cerberus discovered another immortal male’s presence in her life, he punished her dearly. The second time the Bishop tried to help her, he was better prepared.

As she said, she’d been badly injured and barely conscious. Only little glimpses of her rescue lived in her mind. The sounds of Cerberus’s screams. The smashing of wood and shattering of glass. The feel of gentle arms scooping her off the ground and the startling sensation of safety after an eternity of vicious cruelty. She struggled, afraid and distrustful for good reason. But then she was on a boat in a bed, making a long voyage to a new world.

Juniper hardly recognized the undeveloped land as the farm The Order chose but saw the memories of barns and houses being built as they settled. Adriel’s loneliness grew as her waistline expanded. The males of The Order rescued her, but they also condemned her.

Mates were locked at the soul. For her to anger Cerberus to such a degree… They all believed Cerberus’s abuse was somehow caused by her actions, which it had never been.

When Christian was born, she pushed for him to have a seat on the council and as soon as he came of age, the Bishop took him under his wing. Then, she was left alone—for centuries.

Juniper’s heart broke. How could anyone survive such endless isolation?

The despair was too much. The hopeless acceptance that this was all she deserved made Juniper want to hold her and convince her she was owed so much more.

When she reached the presence, she found only traces of Cerberus in her mind, but he was not there now. She looked again and again, but only found traces of pain in his wake. He existed in the scars. Her memories draped like torn lace and wilted cobwebs all throughout her mind, casting shadows like permanent tattoos that she would probably always wear.

Juniper lowered her hands, fighting hard not to shed a single tear.

Adriel’s eyes opened, and she looked up at her with the same familiar innocence she had as a girl. “Is he gone?”

Feeling like a failure, she looked away. “I couldn’t find him.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“I don’t know.” Unlike the fatigue she usually felt from magick, she now only felt discouraged, drained to the point of emotional bankruptcy. Depleted.

Sad.

Adriel read it in her eyes. “What’s wrong? You saw something. Tell me.”

She didn’t know what to say. She could confess how much she initially downplayed the level of abuse she experienced. When Adriel told her how awful her mate was, Juniper had listened but she hadn’t truly understood. Not by a long shot.

She’d been unprepared for such raw memories. No resolution. No knight in shining armor. No magic apples or fairy godmothers or any of that other bullshit kids are shown to believe good will always triumph over evil. It was just…bleak.

She cleared her throat. “Your mind is different from Dane’s. He’s been there several times, but…”

Perhaps it was the mating that made her psyche so complex. She wished she never saw those tender scars. She didn’t want to pity her, yet she couldn’t shut off her sympathy.

Adriel drew back in offense, likely smelling her emotions as immortals so annoyingly tended to do. “You said you were only looking for a presence.”

“I was.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that now, with regret?”

She was so worn out and tired, she didn’t have the fortitude to argue or even the cognitive strength to explain what she saw—at least not gently.

“He’s everywhere, Adriel. I was honestly only searching for his presence, but he’s ingrained in you.”

She stiffened and Juniper honestly didn’t know if that level of entrenchment might also trigger some bizarre protectiveness. If that was how deeply mates rooted in each other’s minds, maybe they really were fucked.

“What did you see?” Adriel’s stare hardened as she waited for an explanation with unflinching stoicism.

Juniper shook her head, feeling small and far too attached to her. “It was a lot.” She swallowed. “I…” A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare shed a tear out of pity for me.” She shot to her feet. “You had no right to rifle through my memories.”

Upset she’d unintentionally hurt her, another tear fell. “Ade, I didn’t do it on purpose. I swear, I was only trying to sniff him out.”

“And now you see how deeply embedded he is?” She scoffed and looked away. “What you must think of me.”

“What? No.” Juniper grabbed her arm. “None of that was your fault.”

Adriel turned her face away, her eyes closing in shame as she pursed her lips. Her hands tightened into fists. “I had no one. I was young and foolish.”

“You survived ,” Juniper explained. “That’s all that matters now. You did whatever you could to survive and save your son. And here you are…living.”

Adriel nodded tightly. “Yes.”

Juniper slipped her hand into hers and squeezed. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to violate your trust.”

She dashed away her tears. “There’s nothing to forgive. You were only trying to help. This is who am. Now you know.”

That was not who she was. Those hideous memories were only part of her. Scars. She was a victim. That was it. An innocent child who was somehow mated to a monster.

The experience of seeing Adriel’s memories bothered Juniper more than she could admit. Dane said mates were supposed to be two halves of one soul. Yet Cerberus’s presence seemed very surface, up until he physically punctured her life, implanting himself in the whole of her new reality until he alone consumed her entire mind.

That felt very different from the romanticized crap she’d been told. But without seeing the topography of another mated immortal’s mind, she had no basis for comparison and no real data to make sense of what she saw.

Which led her to only wanting to forget it. She needed to erase the visions of Cerberus attacking Adriel, hitting her, and holding her down. Just as Adriel had tried to snuff out the memories, Juniper now tried to do the same.

They needed a break.

“Dane why don’t you make some food. Adriel, can you check on Ruth?”

“What are you going to do?” Dane asked.

“Rest. I’m tired from the spell and I need to shut my eyes for a few minutes.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough that they both backed off and left her alone.

Juniper laid on the sofa and covered her eyes, but that made the memories worse. She saw them no matter where she looked. No distraction seemed powerful enough to silence the past as it blared at her from all directions.

She remained in the library long after dark. Dane and Adriel had checked on her a few times but, for the most part, left her alone. She appreciated the privacy, needing time to process. Accepting the headache wasn’t going to fade, she returned to her books, specifically searching for any information about fated mates.

“You’re still working?”

She glanced up from her books and found Adriel standing in the doorway. “I haven’t gotten very far.”

“It’s been hours.”

She sat back, her body stiff and aching from staying in the same position too long. “There’s a lot here. Sometimes I have to read an entry five times before it sinks in.”

“Your mind needs a break, June.”

She’d tried resting, but when she closed her eyes, she was haunted by visions of that psycho hurting Adriel. “I’ll rest when he’s dead.”

“Don’t say that.” She stepped into the study and closed the door. “I’ve thought about what Dane suggested.”

“And?”

“I’m putting my foot down.”

“Ade—”

“No. You cannot ask this of me. I have lived through more than any person should, and I have a right to decide what I want for myself. I was helpless up on that cliff.”

“We were under prepared.”

“We will never be prepared, Juniper. You and Dane nearly died.”

“But we didn’t. That’s won’t happen again.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I can. See all this?” She shoved her hands toward the stacks of books. “This is me preparing. I’ve set spells to help me absorb as much information as possible. My mind is open?—”

“You just admitted that you were struggling.”

“I’m tired. That’s all. I haven’t eaten. Maybe I need more blood. But those aren’t reasons to give up.” Didn’t she realize she was more than enough reason to keep going. “I can’t walk away, Adriel. Not now.”

“This isn’t your choice.”

“It is. I’m choosing to fight for you and stand by your side. I’m sorry if that scares you, but that’s… That’s what love is. If it happens to one of us, it happens to both of us, and that sick fuck isn’t getting near you again—not while I’m guarding you.”

“You’re young, Juniper. Arrogance is often the result of foolish youth.”

“Don’t patronize me. I’m not a fool, and I’m perfectly aware of what I’m risking.”

“It took a band of male immortals to take him down the first time. I know your magick is getting stronger, but you have to think about this logically, up here.” She pointed to her head. “You cannot let your heart lead. Not in this.”

Juniper rejected such nonsense. “I love you. Maybe you don’t get what that truly means, but I do. I’m not leaving you unprotected. We do that and he will absolutely win. I’m sorry if that’s too much for you or too fast. But it’s how I feel. Even if it ruins everything we have together, right now, I refuse to let you face him alone.” Her hand splayed on her chest, where her heart still felt broken from the cruel visions she experienced earlier. “That’s what real love does.”

“I can’t bear this!” Adriel snapped, turning away. “You’re giving me no choice in the matter. Why do you get to protect me, but I cannot protect you?”

“I’m not trying to take your choice away. I’m trying to save your life.”

She dropped her face into her hands and sat down. “What if I can’t be saved?”

Juniper sat next to her, tucking her hair behind her ear as she pried her hands away from her face. “I hate seeing you cry.” She dashed away a tear and kissed her damp cheek. “Maybe none of us can be saved, but I know without a doubt that you’re worth saving.”

“I just want to be someone else. I want a normal life that’s peaceful and calm. I’ve been running and hiding for centuries, yet I’ve never truly escaped him or gotten away.”

Juniper brushed away her tears and looked into her eyes, her fingers running softly through her copper hair. “I can take you away. Before you shake your head no, let me show you.” She smiled, and slipped her hands into hers. “Don’t let go.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. “ Intuitum mentista et locum exoticum droc liberum deduc nos—fiat.”

The air buzzed and birds chortled in the distance. The gentle hiss of insects softened the air around them as the room transformed with lush green vines and sultry heat .

“Open your eyes.”

Adriel lifted her lashes and gasped. “How…?”

Macaws screeched overhead as smaller birds chirped on lower limbs. A chimp caterwauled, and frogs croaked as other reptiles raced about the underbrush, hissing and striking prey from the ferns. Gone were the bookshelves and windows.

Adriel looked up at the canopy of trees. “Is this place real?”

“It’s the Indo-Burma rainforest. Or at least what I remember of it. I did a school project on it in ninth grade.”

“This lives in your memory?”

“I guess.” Now understanding what lived in hers, she felt a sting of gratitude for having such a unique sanctuary on tap. “Now it can live in yours. Look.” She sent a kaleidoscope of butterflies rushing past them, and Adriel laughed.

“It’s stunning.”

Juniper brushed her thumb over her hand. “It’s just a parlor trick. But it shows you how much my magick’s improved.” The vision faded and the library gradually reappeared. The noise of the jungle vanished with the buffeted silence encompassing pages and pages of books.

Juniper met her stare. They were at a stalemate.

“We can beat him, Adriel. You have to have faith.”

“Faith has done nothing to save me.”

“I don’t mean faith in a faceless god. I mean faith in me—have faith in me, in our love. There is nothing you can do or say to make me stop protecting you, Adriel, so you might as well accept it and help me. We have enough obstacles to overcome. There’s no reason for us to create more.”

She sighed. “You’re very stubborn when you want to be.”

Juniper kissed her head. “So are you. It’s why we get along so well.”

Adriel’s eyes creased with concern as she shook her head. “These past few weeks have changed me, Juniper. I need you to know that.”

“Me too.”

Adriel caressed her cheek and smiled, but sorrow remained banked in her eyes. “I never knew what it was to be loved—truly loved—by someone who only wanted the best for me. Nor did I understand what it was to want the same for them.” She laughed. “You’d think it would feel more pleasant, but it’s a relentless torment to care so deeply for someone dead set on endangering themselves.”

“Love is a constant balance of putting other people’s safety, comfort, and happiness before our own. But when we’re in a relationship with someone who loves us equally and respects us, all of those drained areas are somehow refilled. I take care of you, and you take care of me, just as love should be.”

Adriel placed a hand on her face and softly kissed her lips. “Thank you for teaching me what love is meant to be. If I hadn’t met you… I never would have known.”

“Adriel, this might be a messy start but this is not how it ends.”

She smiled sadly. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am. Faith, remember?”

“I’m so tired of this life and what he’s made me.”

Juniper kissed her cheek. “Get some sleep. I’ll be up in a little bit. I just want to finish reading and make a few notes.”

It took longer than expected to actually pull herself away from her research. By the time she made it upstairs, the sky was a soft shade of grey with the glow of the approaching dawn. Apart from the muted haze drifting through curtains, Adriel's room was dark.

“ Ignisia.” The candle on the dresser lit, and Juniper silently stripped out of her sweater, her eyes adapting to the shadows. Toeing off her shoes, she turned and?—

“Adriel?”

Panic spiked her heart rate, and her stomach plummeted. The bed was empty, not a single pillow disturbed. “Fuck!”

She raced to the bathroom but it was also empty. Rushing upstairs, she prayed Adriel was in her bed sound asleep, but as soon as she opened the door, she knew. The air held no trace of her scent and the room was as silent as a tomb.

“Dane!” She sprinted down the steps and burst into Dane’s room, shaking him awake. “Dane, get up!”

“What?” He jackknifed out of bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find Adriel! She’s gone!”

He scrambled to his feet. “What do you mean gone?”

“I don’t know! She’s not here!”

They tore the house apart, searching every room, but she was nowhere to be found. “There’s no sign of a struggle. Are we sure she didn’t just go somewhere?”

“She would have told us. She never leaves without saying something.”

“Check the basement. I’ll check her room again.”

Juniper rushed to the cellar, checking every closet and crawlspace along the way. She was gone. She woke Ruth, but she hadn’t seen her. There was no indication of where she might have gone.

“She’s not here,” Dane said when Juniper returned to Adriel’s empty room.

“Someone doesn’t just vanish into thin air?—”

“She didn’t.” He held out a small piece of paper. “Here. I think this is for you. I found it on the pillow.”

Her heart stopped. Nothing inside of her wanted to read what that letter said. Her head shook, refusing to take it from his hand.

“Read it, Juniper.”

The way he said that made her fear it all the more. That cold little letter could only mean one thing. She was leaving her.

“I don’t want to.”

He grabbed her hand and stuffed the note into her palm. “You have to.”

Snatching her arm back, she growled at him. He was right, of course, but that didn’t make this any easier.

Her fingers shook as she uncrumpled the paper. Sorrow morphed into anger, as the words blurred across the page.

June,

Please do not hate me. My heart simply could not bear the thought of anything happening to you or Dane.

You asked me to have faith in you, and I do. I have faith that you will recover from this and forget me. I have faith that you will one day love again. I have faith that you will find true happiness because that is everything you deserve.

You showed me what love means, and I love you enough to let you go. It’s my turn to protect you. My turn to love you the way you deserve. If you love me back, as you say, you must do the same and let me go. Do not try to locate me. I do not wish to be found. You need to make a beautiful life for yourself. I’m sorry I could not give it to you. Do not waste your heart on someone like me.

With all of my love,

Adriel

The letter fluttered to the floor, and Juniper’s heart crumbled with it. She was gone.