Page 27 of Night Fall
Lucas’s ability was to become a shadow, something that he enjoyed using to scare the crew. Over time he learned that he could also control shadows in a similar way to Gregori’s ability.
But Mya’s ability was different. She received the ability to heal her injuries so fast that cuts were gone in a second, broken bones knitted together in a breath, even full appendages returned in the blink of an eye. At first, she was disappointed. She had wanted something different, something stronger, something that could protect those she loved. But then she realized the power to heal did not have to be hers alone. Through her experiments she found that her healing ability did not just work on her, but also humans. A small cut would heal in a minute, and common diseases disappeared just as quickly.
Then she shared her blood with Erik and found that his own healing ability had strengthened. It was not as strong as hers, but it was enough to make a difference. She gave her blood to her brother and cousin and felt euphoric that she could both help and protect others. She could save anyone she wanted to. She could be useful in a way no one else could be, and she could fulfill a role no one could take from her––the saving grace of her family.
The moment they arrived in America, their plans began.
They received official paperwork, including name changes. Gregori and Lucas were forced to shorten their names, while Miriam changed hers to Lily. From there they purchased several plots of land, including a tavern and inn close to the docks. The location was perfect. Travelers arriving in America would choose to rest at the first inn they saw: theirs. Mya would get them drunk. The alcohol would loosen their lips all while she listened and deftly steered the conversation. Then she took those details and shared them with Erik and Greg. Luke would do something similar, although he seemed to have much more fun by entertaining the women in his private rooms.
It was a simple, unsuspecting con, but it was a fruitful one that yielded valuable information. They had learned local lore and legends of different possible immortals and witch specializations that they never knew existed, murders that may be immortal related, and which immortals had arrived that may be willing to join their cause.
Mya enjoyed her role as spy. While Erik went with Greg to follow new leads and barter meetings for their new council, Mya spent her days training. She pushed her body, wanting to know what her new limitations were, but could not find any. She spent days experimenting, finding out that a single drop of blood held the ability to heal disease, but only if it came from her. She used that knowledge to infuse drinks for those that were sick, those who had made the journey because they were poor and wanted a new life for themselves. She listened to their stories and sympathized with their cause, because she too wanted a better life, somewhere she wouldn’t need to hide.
Then, when Erik got back from his excursions with her brother, she spent her nights with him. She enjoyed those nights, not just because of the pleasure she experienced with him but because she could hold him in her arms. At night, they weren’t a secret. At night, they were a couple. She called him hers, and he called her his, and that was enough. At night, it was enough. But once the sun rose and she watched him leave, it became … something else.
That was why Mya worked to keep herself busy. She hoped that if she was constantly moving, constantly striving to learn something new, that her thoughts and the staggering emotions that plagued her would fall to the back of her mind. She hoped that eventually they would go away, but they didn’t. Each day she spent occupying herself and each night she spent with Erik seemed to only make them worse.
When would it be enough? When would she be enough? Because even though three hundred years had passed and so much had changed in the world, nothing had changed between them.
Mya now had full control over her blood lust. She had received her first ability. She was helpful and useful to their family. She had proven that she could defend herself and would never be a weakness in war. She had done all these things, everything that she believed should have been enough to make Erik finally claim her, but he had not. Apart from kissing and rubbing against her until they both orgasmed, he had never entered her or taken her the way she wanted him to. She was the secret that he kept from everyone but her family.
She knew that wasn’t fair. Erik relied on her, confided in her, trusted her. He made time for her, made sure to start and end his days with her, but she couldn’t go with him on his outings with her brother. No one outside of their family and Lily could know they were together. They could not even say they were in a relationship. She understood that, too, understood that the murders of immortals were increasing and no one knew why. She knew Erik and Greg were investigating those crimes to try and learn more, to make sure they could get ahead of it and keep everyone safe, but this council was still up in the air, and a chance at peace, not a guarantee. Mya worried that if it didn’t work, their relationship would never progress.
Mya wanted to marry Erik. She wanted to have children with him, walk the streets freely with him in the daylight, where people, immortals, anyone and anything could see. In her opinion she would be a target even if The Council formed. She would always be seen as the weakest link of the family, even if it wasn’t true, but she couldn’t tell Erik that. If she did, he would––as he always had––prioritize her safety above everything else, even their happiness, and she wasn’t sure how much more of that she could take.
The tavern’s patrons were loud, talking, dancing, and laughing, their spirits high as the drinks flowed endlessly. There were no empty glasses, no wait, no fuss, just joy and easy mirth.
Mya glided behind the counter, watching as the patrons ate, played cards, or left to entertain their partners in the rooms upstairs. The tavern was full to the brim as three ships had docked safely that day, bringing large groups of eager people wanting to celebrate the end of their last voyage and the beginning of their new life.
In all honesty, Mya did not like being around people, but when they were so uninhibited, so free, she found it easier. There was no need to guess what they were thinking, what stories they were spinning or lies they were telling. They were their true selves, something Mya both admired and found easy to take advantage of to help her family’s cause.
She’d already heard one tale about blood witches murdering a traveling band of thieves in the next town over—the fifth one this week—and another tale of twinkling lights in the forest that someone believed were faeries. Mya believed both stories, as she knew there was a group of faeries who had come from Europe to America after war had caused the portal to their realm to burn down.
Mya’s real concern were the blood witches. The immortals that had been killed had small traces of magic on them, and several had been found with their blood drained. Most of the dead immortals were werewolves, and while the lack of blood made the killings appear to be the work of a vampire, there had not been a war between vampires and shifters for almost a full century.
After further investigation, Greg noticed that the magic signature did not seem to have a limit, like theirs or any other immortals. There was only one answer: it belonged to a witch from the Magic World. They were the only ones who with time, proper casting, spell work, experience, and resources, could grow their powers exponentially.
Then the stories of blood witches began rolling in; witches who had been enslaved by vampires. It was a terrible practice that had started in Europe and continued in America. The abuse and rage the witches had suffered, brought forth a new type of magic, one that rotted away at their souls. They used the very blood in their bodies, and that of their opponent, to fuel their magic, giving them an endless stream of power. They could shift not only their bodies but the very fabric of an immortal’s mind.
Mya would’ve admired them if they hadn’t been so dangerous. She understood their need for vengeance and felt that they were justified in killing their captors, but the innocent immortals they now hunted and murdered with glee had done nothing to warrant their death.
Still, as much of a threat as the blood witches were, their attacked served to push immortals to agree to The Council and an eventual alliance, something that had never been done before. Fear could be an excellent motivator for action, and luckily Erik and Greg knew how to wield it to their advantage.
Both men entered the tavern as if her thoughts had summoned them. Greg gave her a nod and smile which she returned. Erik did the same, although his smile was larger, warming his lingering eyes which never left her frame. Even though it was something he routinely did, she still blushed under his attention.
“Aye, wench! Another round of ale!”
Mya snarled at the intrusion. She grabbed two mugs and filled them to the brim, marched over to the demanding man, and poured both glasses directly over his head. He shouted and moved to stand, but she kicked his leg out from underneath him and used his shoulder to slam him back in his seat. The tavern fell silent as all eyes turned to Mya.
“You want ale, you go to the counter and you order it nicely. Call me a wench again and I’ll break this glass and use it to cut out your tongue.”
His face reddened as he tried to stand again. “You b—”
Mya squeezed his clavicle until the bone snapped in two. He opened his mouth to scream, but she shoved his jaw shut. Another man moved behind her to stand, and she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Sit,” she ordered.
His eyes grew wide. For a split second he looked at the man she held down, who now had tears streaming down his beet red face, then back at her. Mya could feel the fear radiating off him as he slowly sat down, palms raised in submission.
