CHAPTER 1
“You going to stand out here all night?”
Devon lifted an eyebrow, sliding silently out from around the tree. Chris turned to him, shaking his head slightly. Though Chris hadn’t known exactly where Devon was, he had known that he was there. “If that’s what it takes.”
Chris rolled his eyes as he shoved his hands in his pockets and came across his front yard toward Devon. “Cassie will be pissed if she knows you’re watching over her.”
“She already knows.” Chris’s dark blond eyebrows shot up questioningly, he turned slightly back to Cassie’s house. “She may not want it to be true, but we are still connected. Though it was only a few drops her blood is still inside me. There has always been a bond between us, there always will be. How is she?”
Chris glanced at Cassie’s house, his face darkened. They had buried her grandmother today, the only family Cassie had left in this world, and the only woman that had given Chris even an ounce of love and caring. “The same,” he muttered. “Unfortunately.”
Devon knew exactly how Chris felt. Since her grandmother’s murder Cassie had been withdrawn, furious, and lost. She had turned against the one’s she loved, especially him, wanting nothing more to do with him, or his love for her. It was a fact that broke his non beating heart, but he could not find it in himself to blame her for it. He hated himself for what had been done to her and her family. He may not have killed her grandmother, but this was his fault.
He had helped turn Julian into the monster that he was, had helped to mold him into a vicious killer. And when Devon had turned against his kind, spurning human blood, Julian had been infuriated with his decision and determined to turn Devon back, or exact his revenge. Julian had come to this town in search of Devon, and had discovered Cassie, Chris, and Melissa; three Hunter’s that had managed to survive The Slaughter. It was Julian that had discovered and destroyed Cassie’s grandmother. Devon himself had thought The Hunter line extinct, he was glad to know that he had been wrong.
“Well, are you going to stand out here in the snow and cold all night, or do vampires not feel the cold?” Chris asked quietly.
“We feel it,” Devon replied with a wry smile. “The same as you.”
“Good to know, why don’t you come in. You can be scary stalker guy from my porch.”
“Scary stalker guy?”
Chris grinned at him, but his smile did not reach his haunted, sapphire eyes. “Yeah, you’re definitely getting there.”
Devon scowled at him but he followed Chris as he trudged through the snow to his porch. The beat up screen door squeaked as Chris opened it. “Come on in,” Chris invited.
Devon stomped his shoes off before entering the porch area, though once he got inside he didn’t know why he had bothered to clean them off. The worn floorboards, and sagging wood, were covered with a layer of dirt. It was obvious that Chris’s mother didn’t have the money for upkeep, or feel like being bothered to clean. Devon’s gaze fell on the bags of cans and bottles piled in the corner, cases of empty beer bottles sat next to them. Quirking an eyebrow, he realized that she would have a lot more money if she bothered to return the mountain, which he realized now was the source of the smell. No wonder Chris had spent so much time at Cassie’s house, Devon wouldn’t want to spend much time here either, and he had only made it to the porch. Devon didn’t even want to imagine what the rest of the house looked like.
He turned back to the storm glass in the screen door, his gaze focused sharply on Cassie’s house. He didn’t want to be out of sight of it. “Don’t worry; you can see her house from here.” Devon raised an eyebrow as Chris strode over and pulled the cord on a set of curtains, revealing a few small windows in the enclosure. Chris grinned at him, grabbed an old chair and shoved it in front of the window. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m going to put on a pot of coffee. I don’t suppose I could interest you in any.”
Though he didn’t need the liquid, he wouldn’t mind the warmth. “Coffee sounds good.”
Chris’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth parted slightly. “You can drink it?” he blurted out.
Devon couldn’t help but grin at him. “I may not need it to survive, but it’s not going to hurt me.”
Chris grinned sheepishly before nodding and ducking through the doorway. Devon leaned forward in his seat, folding his hands before him as he stared at Cassie’s house through the dirty windows. The light in her room was off, but she was still awake. He could feel her presence, the anger and hurt that filled her. He ached for her, desperately wished that he could hold her, or that he could somehow take it all back. But he couldn’t do either of those things, so he had to settle for making sure she didn’t do something crazy, like getting herself killed. That was not going to be easy.
Cassie appeared suddenly at her window, her hands fumbled hastily with the latch as she shoved and pushed angrily at the glass. Devon rose swiftly, prepared to go and stop her. Prepared to drag her kicking and screaming back into the house if that was what it took. She hated him already; he didn’t care if she hated him even more as long as it kept her safe. Hell, if it came down to it he would handcuff her to her bed in order to keep her safe.
Cassie finally flung the window open, leaning swiftly out she inhaled deep, gasping breaths of the chilly night air. Her hands clung to the sill, her hair spilled in long golden waves before her. She was shivering fiercely, but he was certain that it was not from the cold. Shuddering again, she hung low over the window, gasping fiercely as she slipped to her knees, clinging to the window.
Devon’s hands fisted as he fought the urge to go to her, to hold her and console her.
“She’s not crying.”
Devon turned, surprised to find Chris standing beside him. He had been so focused on Cassie that he hadn’t noticed Chris’s return. “How can you be sure?” Devon demanded gruffly.
Chris turned to him, his gaze bearing that haunted look that seemed to shimmer permanently in his sapphire eyes now. Devon was beginning to hate that look, mainly because it seemed as if Chris was losing hope with Cassie. And if Chris lost hope then he didn’t know what he was going to do. For so long Chris had been Cassie’s shoulder to lean on. For so long, they had been all that the other had. No, Chris could not lose hope for her, because if he did, then Devon might have to admit that all hope was lost.
“She doesn’t cry, or at least she hasn’t yet. She’s too angry for that. The hurt’s not getting through.” Chris handed him a cup of coffee, steam spiraled slowly up from it. “I figured you would be a black kind of guy.”
“I am. If she’s not crying, then what is she doing?”
“Trying to breathe.” At Devon’s questioning glance, Chris waved briefly to the window. “It’s too much anger, too much hatred; she doesn’t know how to handle it. She can’t breathe through it.”
“I see.”
“I don’t.” Chris pulled up another chair, sitting down he blew lightly on his coffee as he propped his feet up. “She thinks that she can push us all away, but she’s wrong. I don’t get how she doesn’t understand that. You do know that she has a death wish right?”
A chill swept down Devon’s spine, anger spurted through him. He knew that what Chris said was true, but it was not a thought that sat well with him. He would do everything in his power to keep that from happening. She would survive this, even if she didn’t want to. “Yes,” he managed to grate through clenched teeth.
Chris sipped his coffee, staring out at the night. Devon slowly returned to his seat, ready to take off again if Cassie tried to escape. She didn’t though. Eventually she retreated back to her room, sliding and locking the window behind her. Devon sighed in relief, relaxing slightly.
“That’s not Cassie you know.”
Devon glanced sharply at Chris, worry bubbled swiftly up. Had Chris sensed something inside of her, something off? And if so, what exactly had he sensed? Did Chris know something about what he and Luther had been searching for? “What do you mean?”
Chris shook his head, taking another sip of coffee. “She’s just not the same Cassie I’ve always known. That Cassie,” he said, nodding toward Cassie’s vacated window. “Is so full of anger and hatred.” He shook his head again, seemingly trying to shake off the lingering feelings that clung to him. “I’ve known her my entire life, but I’ve never known her like this. I never thought that she could even be capable of it. But I guess we never know what people are capable of, do we?”
Devon leaned forward, his gaze still focused on Cassie’s window, his mind on Chris’s words. “No, we don’t.”
“She’ll come around you know. She’ll realize that this isn’t your fault.”
Devon turned toward Chris. He was silent for a moment as he thought over Chris’s words and his own role in everything that had happened. “Isn’t it though?”
“No.” Chris set his coffee mug down. “It’s no one’s fault, unfortunately things just happen and we can’t always stop them. You didn’t kill Lily.”
“I helped to create the monster that did, and I did create Isla,” Devon said softly. Julian had once been his best friend and greatest companion, but was now his greatest enemy. Devon had enjoyed helping to make Julian a murderous psychopath. Isla, well Isla he had simply enjoyed. He shrank away from the reminder of what he once been, what he had once enjoyed, and that relationship. Isla was exactly the twisted individual that he had once desired immensely.
Though Isla had not killed Lily, for only Julian would have known of Lily’s relationship to Cassie, Devon was certain that she had helped in Lily’s demise. “I’m the reason that he is here. That they are both here.”
Chris was silent for a moment as he swayed lightly in his chair. “But you did not kill Lily.”
Devon turned away again, his forgotten coffee clutched tightly in his hands. “Splitting hairs,” he muttered.
Chris sighed softly, his impatience with Devon evident on his face. “The truth is that it’s not you that she’s really mad at.”
Devon frowned fiercely. “Of course it is.”
Chris leaned forward; reaching out to take the mug from Devon’s clenched hands. He released it slowly, dimly realizing that he had cracked it from holding it so tight. Coffee dripped down the side of the crack. “No, it’s not. She’s mad at herself, she’s mad that she wasn’t there to stop it. She’s mad that she was with you that night, instead of with her grandmother. She’s mad that she didn’t see it coming, that she didn’t realize that Julian, or Isla, would go after her grandmother. It’s not you that she hates; I don’t even think she truly hates Julian.”
Chris broke off, his eyes bright in the light of the moon. His face was intent, his gaze still incredibly lost and lonely. Though Chris was far younger than he, Devon suddenly sensed a wealth of wisdom in him that was frightening as well as slightly unnerving.
“It’s herself that she hates right now. That is who she is truly angry at, who she truly hates. That is what is at the root of her desire to die. She hates herself so much that she doesn’t want to keep going. She hates herself so much that she doesn’t want anyone’s love right now. Not yours, not mine, nobody’s. She doesn’t feel she deserves it. Not anymore.”
Devon sat in stunned silence, his gaze rapidly searching Chris’s face. Confusion swirled through Devon, doubt and worry swamped him. Though the two of them had developed a friendship of sorts, Devon had always suspected that Chris was in love with Cassie. Why would Chris want to help him by telling him this stuff now? Why would Chris give him hope that Cassie would come back to him, once she sorted through the emotions and pain swamping her?
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked softly.
Chris frowned at him, his eyes shadowed by the dark circles beneath them. “To help you understand.”
“But why?” Devon demanded. “With me out of the picture, you can make your move on her.”
Though the thought made his blood boil, it was something that needed to be said, and explained. Chris’s eyes widened, his mouth parted in surprise, and then (to Devon’s vast annoyance) he began to laugh loudly. “Make a move on Cassie!?” he sputtered in disbelief.
Devon frowned fiercely at him. “Yes.”
Chris’s laughter died off, but his eyes still twinkled with amusement. “You think that I’m in love with her!”
Devon’s annoyance grew as he shifted angrily in his chair. Despite their strange friendship, he was very close to punching the maddening grin off of Chris’s face. “Well, aren’t you?” he growled.
“You going to stand out here all night?”
Devon lifted an eyebrow, sliding silently out from around the tree. Chris turned to him, shaking his head slightly. Though Chris hadn’t known exactly where Devon was, he had known that he was there. “If that’s what it takes.”
Chris rolled his eyes as he shoved his hands in his pockets and came across his front yard toward Devon. “Cassie will be pissed if she knows you’re watching over her.”
“She already knows.” Chris’s dark blond eyebrows shot up questioningly, he turned slightly back to Cassie’s house. “She may not want it to be true, but we are still connected. Though it was only a few drops her blood is still inside me. There has always been a bond between us, there always will be. How is she?”
Chris glanced at Cassie’s house, his face darkened. They had buried her grandmother today, the only family Cassie had left in this world, and the only woman that had given Chris even an ounce of love and caring. “The same,” he muttered. “Unfortunately.”
Devon knew exactly how Chris felt. Since her grandmother’s murder Cassie had been withdrawn, furious, and lost. She had turned against the one’s she loved, especially him, wanting nothing more to do with him, or his love for her. It was a fact that broke his non beating heart, but he could not find it in himself to blame her for it. He hated himself for what had been done to her and her family. He may not have killed her grandmother, but this was his fault.
He had helped turn Julian into the monster that he was, had helped to mold him into a vicious killer. And when Devon had turned against his kind, spurning human blood, Julian had been infuriated with his decision and determined to turn Devon back, or exact his revenge. Julian had come to this town in search of Devon, and had discovered Cassie, Chris, and Melissa; three Hunter’s that had managed to survive The Slaughter. It was Julian that had discovered and destroyed Cassie’s grandmother. Devon himself had thought The Hunter line extinct, he was glad to know that he had been wrong.
“Well, are you going to stand out here in the snow and cold all night, or do vampires not feel the cold?” Chris asked quietly.
“We feel it,” Devon replied with a wry smile. “The same as you.”
“Good to know, why don’t you come in. You can be scary stalker guy from my porch.”
“Scary stalker guy?”
Chris grinned at him, but his smile did not reach his haunted, sapphire eyes. “Yeah, you’re definitely getting there.”
Devon scowled at him but he followed Chris as he trudged through the snow to his porch. The beat up screen door squeaked as Chris opened it. “Come on in,” Chris invited.
Devon stomped his shoes off before entering the porch area, though once he got inside he didn’t know why he had bothered to clean them off. The worn floorboards, and sagging wood, were covered with a layer of dirt. It was obvious that Chris’s mother didn’t have the money for upkeep, or feel like being bothered to clean. Devon’s gaze fell on the bags of cans and bottles piled in the corner, cases of empty beer bottles sat next to them. Quirking an eyebrow, he realized that she would have a lot more money if she bothered to return the mountain, which he realized now was the source of the smell. No wonder Chris had spent so much time at Cassie’s house, Devon wouldn’t want to spend much time here either, and he had only made it to the porch. Devon didn’t even want to imagine what the rest of the house looked like.
He turned back to the storm glass in the screen door, his gaze focused sharply on Cassie’s house. He didn’t want to be out of sight of it. “Don’t worry; you can see her house from here.” Devon raised an eyebrow as Chris strode over and pulled the cord on a set of curtains, revealing a few small windows in the enclosure. Chris grinned at him, grabbed an old chair and shoved it in front of the window. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m going to put on a pot of coffee. I don’t suppose I could interest you in any.”
Though he didn’t need the liquid, he wouldn’t mind the warmth. “Coffee sounds good.”
Chris’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth parted slightly. “You can drink it?” he blurted out.
Devon couldn’t help but grin at him. “I may not need it to survive, but it’s not going to hurt me.”
Chris grinned sheepishly before nodding and ducking through the doorway. Devon leaned forward in his seat, folding his hands before him as he stared at Cassie’s house through the dirty windows. The light in her room was off, but she was still awake. He could feel her presence, the anger and hurt that filled her. He ached for her, desperately wished that he could hold her, or that he could somehow take it all back. But he couldn’t do either of those things, so he had to settle for making sure she didn’t do something crazy, like getting herself killed. That was not going to be easy.
Cassie appeared suddenly at her window, her hands fumbled hastily with the latch as she shoved and pushed angrily at the glass. Devon rose swiftly, prepared to go and stop her. Prepared to drag her kicking and screaming back into the house if that was what it took. She hated him already; he didn’t care if she hated him even more as long as it kept her safe. Hell, if it came down to it he would handcuff her to her bed in order to keep her safe.
Cassie finally flung the window open, leaning swiftly out she inhaled deep, gasping breaths of the chilly night air. Her hands clung to the sill, her hair spilled in long golden waves before her. She was shivering fiercely, but he was certain that it was not from the cold. Shuddering again, she hung low over the window, gasping fiercely as she slipped to her knees, clinging to the window.
Devon’s hands fisted as he fought the urge to go to her, to hold her and console her.
“She’s not crying.”
Devon turned, surprised to find Chris standing beside him. He had been so focused on Cassie that he hadn’t noticed Chris’s return. “How can you be sure?” Devon demanded gruffly.
Chris turned to him, his gaze bearing that haunted look that seemed to shimmer permanently in his sapphire eyes now. Devon was beginning to hate that look, mainly because it seemed as if Chris was losing hope with Cassie. And if Chris lost hope then he didn’t know what he was going to do. For so long Chris had been Cassie’s shoulder to lean on. For so long, they had been all that the other had. No, Chris could not lose hope for her, because if he did, then Devon might have to admit that all hope was lost.
“She doesn’t cry, or at least she hasn’t yet. She’s too angry for that. The hurt’s not getting through.” Chris handed him a cup of coffee, steam spiraled slowly up from it. “I figured you would be a black kind of guy.”
“I am. If she’s not crying, then what is she doing?”
“Trying to breathe.” At Devon’s questioning glance, Chris waved briefly to the window. “It’s too much anger, too much hatred; she doesn’t know how to handle it. She can’t breathe through it.”
“I see.”
“I don’t.” Chris pulled up another chair, sitting down he blew lightly on his coffee as he propped his feet up. “She thinks that she can push us all away, but she’s wrong. I don’t get how she doesn’t understand that. You do know that she has a death wish right?”
A chill swept down Devon’s spine, anger spurted through him. He knew that what Chris said was true, but it was not a thought that sat well with him. He would do everything in his power to keep that from happening. She would survive this, even if she didn’t want to. “Yes,” he managed to grate through clenched teeth.
Chris sipped his coffee, staring out at the night. Devon slowly returned to his seat, ready to take off again if Cassie tried to escape. She didn’t though. Eventually she retreated back to her room, sliding and locking the window behind her. Devon sighed in relief, relaxing slightly.
“That’s not Cassie you know.”
Devon glanced sharply at Chris, worry bubbled swiftly up. Had Chris sensed something inside of her, something off? And if so, what exactly had he sensed? Did Chris know something about what he and Luther had been searching for? “What do you mean?”
Chris shook his head, taking another sip of coffee. “She’s just not the same Cassie I’ve always known. That Cassie,” he said, nodding toward Cassie’s vacated window. “Is so full of anger and hatred.” He shook his head again, seemingly trying to shake off the lingering feelings that clung to him. “I’ve known her my entire life, but I’ve never known her like this. I never thought that she could even be capable of it. But I guess we never know what people are capable of, do we?”
Devon leaned forward, his gaze still focused on Cassie’s window, his mind on Chris’s words. “No, we don’t.”
“She’ll come around you know. She’ll realize that this isn’t your fault.”
Devon turned toward Chris. He was silent for a moment as he thought over Chris’s words and his own role in everything that had happened. “Isn’t it though?”
“No.” Chris set his coffee mug down. “It’s no one’s fault, unfortunately things just happen and we can’t always stop them. You didn’t kill Lily.”
“I helped to create the monster that did, and I did create Isla,” Devon said softly. Julian had once been his best friend and greatest companion, but was now his greatest enemy. Devon had enjoyed helping to make Julian a murderous psychopath. Isla, well Isla he had simply enjoyed. He shrank away from the reminder of what he once been, what he had once enjoyed, and that relationship. Isla was exactly the twisted individual that he had once desired immensely.
Though Isla had not killed Lily, for only Julian would have known of Lily’s relationship to Cassie, Devon was certain that she had helped in Lily’s demise. “I’m the reason that he is here. That they are both here.”
Chris was silent for a moment as he swayed lightly in his chair. “But you did not kill Lily.”
Devon turned away again, his forgotten coffee clutched tightly in his hands. “Splitting hairs,” he muttered.
Chris sighed softly, his impatience with Devon evident on his face. “The truth is that it’s not you that she’s really mad at.”
Devon frowned fiercely. “Of course it is.”
Chris leaned forward; reaching out to take the mug from Devon’s clenched hands. He released it slowly, dimly realizing that he had cracked it from holding it so tight. Coffee dripped down the side of the crack. “No, it’s not. She’s mad at herself, she’s mad that she wasn’t there to stop it. She’s mad that she was with you that night, instead of with her grandmother. She’s mad that she didn’t see it coming, that she didn’t realize that Julian, or Isla, would go after her grandmother. It’s not you that she hates; I don’t even think she truly hates Julian.”
Chris broke off, his eyes bright in the light of the moon. His face was intent, his gaze still incredibly lost and lonely. Though Chris was far younger than he, Devon suddenly sensed a wealth of wisdom in him that was frightening as well as slightly unnerving.
“It’s herself that she hates right now. That is who she is truly angry at, who she truly hates. That is what is at the root of her desire to die. She hates herself so much that she doesn’t want to keep going. She hates herself so much that she doesn’t want anyone’s love right now. Not yours, not mine, nobody’s. She doesn’t feel she deserves it. Not anymore.”
Devon sat in stunned silence, his gaze rapidly searching Chris’s face. Confusion swirled through Devon, doubt and worry swamped him. Though the two of them had developed a friendship of sorts, Devon had always suspected that Chris was in love with Cassie. Why would Chris want to help him by telling him this stuff now? Why would Chris give him hope that Cassie would come back to him, once she sorted through the emotions and pain swamping her?
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked softly.
Chris frowned at him, his eyes shadowed by the dark circles beneath them. “To help you understand.”
“But why?” Devon demanded. “With me out of the picture, you can make your move on her.”
Though the thought made his blood boil, it was something that needed to be said, and explained. Chris’s eyes widened, his mouth parted in surprise, and then (to Devon’s vast annoyance) he began to laugh loudly. “Make a move on Cassie!?” he sputtered in disbelief.
Devon frowned fiercely at him. “Yes.”
Chris’s laughter died off, but his eyes still twinkled with amusement. “You think that I’m in love with her!”
Devon’s annoyance grew as he shifted angrily in his chair. Despite their strange friendship, he was very close to punching the maddening grin off of Chris’s face. “Well, aren’t you?” he growled.
