Page 34 of Night Fall
Mya screamed. She screamed louder than the waves that crashed along the cliff, louder than the force of the wind. She screamed so loud that the birds scattered, and she kept screaming as she crashed to her knees in the ash, clutching his letter and ring. She knew nothing else but agony, desperation, and despair. She wanted nothing else but to join him, to give everything up and simply fall away with him, hoping that maybe in another life, another world or dimension, they could have their happy ending. That was the only way to end this pain.
Mya stood slowly, then turned toward the cliff edge. She slipped Erik’s ring on her thumb. It was too big, but she curled her fingers over it, pressing the metal into place. She’d keep it close even as she fell and met her death at the rocks deep below.
Then a waft of smoke filled Mya’s nostrils, and she turned her head in its direction, searching for the cause.
Her first thought was that it had to be Erik, that he was still alive and she had just overlooked something. She could still be with him, still show him that she loved him. She could still save him.
Mya sped toward the scent, but as she drew closer, she found the large house that she hadn’t known existed until only a few minutes ago, the place that Erik said he’d built for her, for them, was now engulfed in flames, and for the third time that day Mya was powerless to stop the chaos and destruction around her.
This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair! They hadn’t done anything to deserve this! Erik had worked so hard to create a council that would help end all the killings and atrocities of their world. It was supposed to represent everyone, to fix things, but for all his efforts, this is what he’d gotten—what they’d gotten—in return: Tragedy. Heartbreak. Pain.
No.
No more.
Mya would not let it continue. She was going to die. She knew that, she accepted it, but she would not go before she got revenge for Erik and before she killed the people who did this to them.
The smell of the fire was overwhelming now, but Erik had taught her how to use her senses, how to keep and control her blood lust. Closing her eyes and rubbing her index finger on the warm metal of Erik’s ring, Mya called on her practiced control of ferocious violence.
It wanted blood, and so it sought it out. Mya had scared the animals in the forest with her cries of anguish, so when she searched for the nearest source with the greatest amount of blood, she found exactly who she was looking for—the person who had set fire to their home.
The witch was laughing manically as she twirled around, droplets of blood flying from her dress. From her spot behind a large oak, Mya saw a slaughtered moose, its blood taken by the woman who now seemed to be celebrating what she’d done.
“One more vampire taken care of! One more gone!” she sang, laughing and jumping and throwing her hands to the sky.
Mya wanted to snap her neck—she even reached out to do so—until she remembered that this blood witch wasn’t the only one to blame for what had happened. No, their entire coven was. If Mya wanted to find them and exact her retribution, she would have to wait for this one to lead her to their home. There, she would kill them, every single last one, and only then would she be at peace.
TWELVE
Mya followed the blood-drunk witch for two days.
The woman believed she was unstoppable. She used her powers recklessly, performing magic in front of humans only to wipe their minds of it afterward. As Mya watched, she realized just how powerful the witch was, and yet her powers never affected Mya.
Satisfaction pooled in Mya’s gut with the knowledge that she was immune to the blood witch’s power. If this witch couldn’t affect her, it was likely that none of her coven’s powers would be able to either. Mya wanted them to be powerless. She wanted them to know that a big, bad monster was coming for them, and nothing they could do would save them. She wanted them to feel the same way she felt, to know the same pain she had known when she lost the only man she had ever and would ever love. Every day, every second that went by was another in which she fed that pain to her anger, her rage, and her soon unavoidable wrath.
Finally, the witch went home, leading Mya to her coven. The house was set back in the poorest section of the city, an old, seemingly abandoned Gothic church. A fitting place for them to die, Mya thought, because there wasn’t a single god who could save their worthless souls. Not from her.
Mya knocked on the large wooden door and waited. When it opened, she came face to face with the woman who’d been with Erik’s impostor. The witch’s eyes grew wide as fear morphed her expression into one of horror, and the reaction made Mya smile. The woman opened her mouth to scream, but before she could make a sound Mya reached forward, grabbed her by her neck and crushed her throat. The woman’s eyes bulged before she fell to the ground, dead.
Mya stepped over her body, entering the foyer. Her eyes darted around the room, preparing for an attack, but instead she found four more witches, their mouths also agape in horror. It only made her smile wider.
“You have the gall to look at me as if you don’t know why I’m here.” Mya’s eyes narrowed, and her tone turned bitter. “You took everything from me, and now, I am going to return the favor.”
Mya killed them before they could blink, and she killed the next two who entered the room. One of them tried some sort of magic on her, and for that Mya broke her fingers, then her hand, her wrist, and her arm. Mya made the woman scream for even attempting to raise a hand to her, all before she tore her head from her neck and threw it onto the dusty floor.
The commotion brought forth more witches, and Mya killed them savagely. Each drop of their blood fueled her rage, her wrath, her need for vengeance and justice. No matter how many she killed, she could never bring Erik back, so she killed them in his name, in their name.
Room by room she slaughtered them. Some, after hearing the screams of their sisters, took up weapons to defend themselves, and a dark, deep part of Mya gained satisfaction after killing them with their own tools. At one time she had held pity for these creatures, for the atrocities committed against them, but now? Now they deserved every bit of the killer she’d become.
Mya reached the second to last closed door of the floor she was on. She kicked it open, ready to pounce, but the sight before her turned her blood cold. In the room were a dozen bassinets each containing a tiny, delicate newborn. The babies were mixed, not only human but different immortal species as well. Not a single child made a sound, and as Mya approached them, she felt the sparkle of magic, and knew they must be under some sort of spell.
She sensed a presence behind her and spun, then grabbed the young girl from the doorway and threw her back against the wall.
“Please! Wait!” she begged through broken breaths.
Mya’s grip tightened on the girl’s throat. “Whose children are these?”
“T-The wit-witches’.”
