“It will be all right, I’ll wait for you,” were the last words Angela whispered to me, as her body went limp in my arms, my teeth marks in her neck.

My father screaming that I’d killed her, that I was a monster. But he was the one who’d made me.

You see, vampires were originally created by necromancers, and my father, upon shooting his only son, thought it prudent to bring him back to life. Only not as a rotter, that wouldn’t do. No, he brought me back as a vampire, catching my soul before it fled. And when I woke, out of my mind with hunger, I attacked Angela, drained her body completely. Killed my sister, the closest thing I would ever have to a daughter.

From that moment on, I didn’t know who I hated more, my father, or myself. And when you brought him back with you, when you brought Thomas to Doran’s home, it wasn’t the vampires he feared, it was me. He didn’t want to face me, even after all these years. Because what I know now, and what I’m sure he came to see too, was that it all fell in his lap. A new vampire has no control, has very little ability to do anything but feed and hide from the light.

And that is the story of how I came to be. Of why I can jump the veil with ease. It is the blood of a necromancer that flows through my veins. That is why I can do what other vampires cannot.

Chapter 9

I stared at Faris, his story still ringing in my ears. “Thomas was your father? Thomas, the necromancer, with a gazillion fucking zombies buried in his yard?”

“Yes.”

“And Berget killed him.” My heart ached from his story, and it had a ring of truth that even I wouldn’t deny. Faris had done some shitty things, but his beginning had been fucking awful, to say the least. And even I wasn’t so cold as to not feel he’d been dealt a rough hand.

“Yes, she did. But from what I saw, he . . . egged her on. I think it was his way of committing suicide. He was ready to go. We’d had a . . . discussion about the past, and we’d come to an agreement not to bring it up again.” He kept his eyes down and without thinking, I leaned forward and brushed back a long piece of his hair. He seemed so lost, like the little boy he spoke about.

“I’m sorry for all your losses. At least in that, we understand each other.”

He gave a dry laugh and nodded. “True, in grief we are very alike. Except I’ve not lost anyone I loved since I became a vampire.”

“Because you wouldn’t allow yourself to love?” I spit it out before I thought better of it. Mostly because I already knew the answer.

Faris stared hard at me and I squirmed in my seat.

“No, I have not. There is something I would offer you, though, now that you know the truth about me.”

“What is that?” I tightened my grip on the blanket, wondering.

“Necromancers, they can allow a spirit into their body for a time. Not long, but long enough to speak to them.”

Peta lifted her head and stared at a spot to the left of Faris. At seemingly nothing. But maybe at Liam? He wouldn’t have left me if he could stay with me.

“You mean, Liam, don’t you?”

“I’m not saying it would be enjoyable for me. But as a sign of peace between us.” He lifted his eyebrows at me, leaving the choice in my hands.

A chance to speak to Liam. “I’ve spoken with him, in my dreams.”

“And is that good enough for you?” Faris pushed and a niggling of doubt worked its way into my heart. Good enough? Nothing would ever be good enough. But the vampire was right, any time with Liam was worth a chance.

“All right. Do you need me to do anything?”

“No. I just don’t want to be accused of anything after.”

What was he talking about?

He closed his eyes and his head slumped forward until his chin rested on his chest. His body relaxing and then . . . tension flowed through him as he lifted his head. His eyes slowly opened. Golden eyes.

My lips trembled. “Liam?”

“Rylee, why did you let him call me?”

I reached out wanting to touch him, even though it was Faris’s body. “He offered and I—”

“You of all people should know by now that Faris doesn’t do anything for anyone without a reason.” He bit the words out, Faris’s voice, but Liam through and through.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, not wanting to fight with him.

“He can use the powers of any who posses him.” He motioned to the stump of his arm, which was—

“Holy shit, it’s growing back.” I did reach out then, and touched his arm.

“I’m the only Guardian he could have called, that he would have permission to call. You gave him the right to call me.”

“How long do . . . you have?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I let the blanket drop, not taking my eyes from his. “Then hold me, while you can.”

His one arm reached out and I curled into his lap, it wasn’t Liam, and yet, I could feel him there. Feel the man I loved under the skin of one I was so uncertain of. “You should have told me what you were planning.”

“And if I had?”

“If I’d understood, I would have let you go. And you and I could have said goodbye properly. Who was it, that wielded the knife?”

He grunted as if I’d punched him. “Don’t be too hard on her, I asked her to help. It had to be someone who loved me, and I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

There was only one other her it could be. “Pamela? YOU ASKED PAMELA TO KILL YOU?”

I jerked out of his lap, fury and horror lashed my heart. “Liam, how could you do that? She’s a child!”

“There was no other choice!” He shot up out of his seat, and in his eyes I saw the uncertainty. The worry he’d made a mistake.

I ran a hand over my face. “She’s not like us, Giselle said the darkness would pull on her, you think THIS is going to help? Fucking hell, man. You should have told me.”

His hand, Faris’s, brushed along my cheek. “You’re right. I should have told you. Should have trusted you. I’m sorry, I’ve made a mess of this.”

I clamped my fingers around his. “That’s usually my job. And nice job on the arm.”

He glanced down, flexing his new fingers. “Yeah, not bad.” A grimace past over his face. “Faris is trying to take control back.”