Page 16 of Tainted Souls
I nod, relieved that the tension between us has eased a bit. Max extends his hand to me, a cautious peace offering I eagerly accept. His fingers intertwine with mine, warm against my naturally cooler skin.
Together, we step out of the alley and into the main street, the neon lights of Penn City painting our faces in alternating hues of purple and blue. The streets are eerily quiet. No pedestrians, no vehicles—just the distant wail of sirens and the occasional flutter of papers caught in the evening breeze.
Something isn’t right.
Max’s grip on my hand tightens. “Where is everyone?”
I’m about to answer when I sense them, that distinctive predatory presence that makes the fine hairs on my neck standon end. Not the familiar presence of my friends, but something colder, hungrier.
Moving like phantoms, they seem to materialize from darkened doorways and rooftops with inhuman speed. Six of them—no, eight—form a circle around us with the coordination of trained assailants. Their pale skin gleams like marble under the streetlights, their eyes flickering with an animalistic gleam.
“Max,” I say, tugging at his arm. “Stay behind me.”
But Max doesn’t move, momentarily transfixed by the sight of the vampires surrounding us. I can feel his heartbeat accelerating through our linked hands, the rush of blood making him an even more tempting target. These aren’t Pennian vampires with their rigorously upheld facades of humanity.
These are hunters—ruthless, relentless, and ravenous.
But so am I.
CHAPTER 3
POSITIONING MYSELF IN FRONTof Max, I swiftly scan our surroundings for escape routes and calculate our odds. Eight against one, with a human to protect. Not good.
“They say marriage is the epitome of romantic love—a connection so deep that it’s intoxicating,” one of them drawls, stepping forward. Her accent is thick with the rolling cadence of Mythcrest’s hinterlands after dusk. “What they don’t tell you, however, is that love is poison. A sweet one, yes, but it will incapacitate you nonetheless.”
Her bone-white hair is swept up and secured at the back of her head, with loose-hanging strands framing her lightly freckled alabaster face. It has an almost ethereal glow to it, as if crafted from the very essence of winter, reminding me ofhim.
Revenant, the leader of the Ravens—the one responsible for memories I beg to forget: bodies strewn across multiple floors, the complete silence that followed the screams, and my father’s final words lost beneath the gurgle of blood in his mouth.Theone who corrupted my brother, and the one I’ve spent years trying to find.
A Whiteshade, as we came to call him, named for the striking white shade of his hair. It seems he’s not the only one of his kind.
My pulse quickens, dread swirling through my veins, the ground suddenly feeling unsteady beneath me. The world just became much larger, and much more dangerous than I ever realized.
From the shadow cast in front of me, I notice Max’s hand slide into his pocket, his fingers fumbling for his phone. He’s desperate to call for help—for emergency services—and I’m not the only one who noticed.
The Whiteshade’s eyes flash with amusement as she lifts two elegant fingers before pushing them down with purpose.
Before I can shout a warning, two vampires have already blurred forward. Max’s phone hits the pavement as his body folds, a sickening thud following his collapse.
Fury surges through me as I drop to a crouch, fingers enclosing the hilt of my lumen dagger. I slide it free from my boot sheath in one deft motion, the flash of teal bright in the dark, then lunge forward with the deadly precision I’ve spent years perfecting.
The weapon finds itself inside the chest of the first attacker. He lets out a strangled gasp, vitae bubbling violently from his lips as I yank the blade free. The second attacker comes at me with bared fangs. I duck under his outstretched arms, slashing upward in a vicious arc that severs his wrist. He stumbles backward with a howl, allowing me to spin around and use the momentum to drive my blade deep into his throat. With a twist, cartilage and bone give way beneath the crystal edge.
I let this one off, not killing him like I did the first, but not without a fair warning of excruciating pain.
The man I just mutilated collapses, his eyes rolling upward.
“There is no need to make this difficult, dhampir.”
My body tenses as she speaks, sensing rather than seeing her move toward me. One moment she’s ten feet away. The next, she’s lifting me until my toes barely scrape the ground, her hand tightened around my throat. My dagger flings out of my hand as I claw at her wrist, my lungs burning for air. Her grip is like iron, unyielding and ancient.
This is no ordinary vampire, no freshly turned predator stumbling through immortality. This is power refined through centuries, strength honed to perfection.
“What,” I manage to croak out, “do you want?”
Her glowering glare grows into a sinister smirk, her forbidding aura warning me that any attempt to fight back will only serve to provoke her further. It’s not just her hair either, it’s something deeper—it’s in the way she moves, the way she seems to loom even when standing perfectly still. Whiteshades don’t need to bare their fangs to make you feel like you’ve already lost.
“It’s time for you to dispose of your mortal fantasies and fulfill your duty,” she says, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Come with me, my dear. I’ll tell you all about it.”
