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Authors: Felicity Heaton
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comfort him.
“Not Winter?” she said, a strange sense of relief filling her.
Winter knelt on the other side of her father.
“But why attack the village?” Nika fought hard to control the colliding emotions inside her—anger, sorrow, rage, fear, confusion. They all fought for control within her. With the smell of burning flesh in her nostrils and the sight of her father slipping away, she knew it wouldn’t be long before anger won and rage was victorious.
She frowned when her father’s hand moved from her coat collar to her cheek. It was so cold. She placed her free hand over it and held it against her face, hoping he could feel her and she could warm him. She tried to tell herself that he would be all right but she knew that she was losing him. Tears streaked her cheeks, hot lines that froze in the cold air, and blurred her vision.
“You,” he whispered.
Nika blinked, not understanding. Her? It couldn’t be her. She couldn’t be responsible for all this death. She hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t provoked their attack on her last night and this one on her village tonight. The thought turned her blood to ice. She trembled.
“Me?” she whispered as quiet as he had, the chill of being to blame for all this death stealing her voice. It couldn’t be true. She shook head slowly, unable to believe it. She hadn’t provoked the werewolves. She hadn’t. They had attacked her, made her like them. It didn’t make sense. Why was she to blame for all this death and suffering?
“The pact.” He coughed again and she held him a little tighter until the fit had passed. His breathing was rough and laboured, each wheeze crushing her chest with fear. “Your hand… to protect village. Pact broken… vampire… kept you… from him.”
She didn’t understand. Her eyes immediately sought Winter’s and she silently pleaded him to have an answer, to make the confusion go away and help her understand what had happened at the village. The last of her strength was rapidly leaving her. She didn’t want this.
She didn’t want her father to die. She didn’t want to be alone in this terrifying world.
Winter frowned heavily and looked down at her father. He removed the glove from his left hand and pressed his fingers against her father’s neck. Something dawned on Nika when she saw the colour of Winter’s eyes and the way they reflected like mirrors as the firelight shone on them.
“Bite him!” She dropped her father’s hand and grabbed Winter’s, clutching it tight. Her fingers clawed at it, pulled. Winter looked at her, expression emotionless, not budging an inch as she yanked on his hand. “Please. Bite him. If you change him, he doesn’t have to die. We can find out what happened here. We can save him. Please? Don’t let him die. Don’t let my father die!”
His purple eyes bore into hers and she squeezed his hand so tight that she was afraid that she would hurt him. Desperation consumed her, fierce and powerful, controlling her actions. She pulled on Winter’s hand with all her might, tugging him towards her father, as though she could force him to turn him. Could he turn her father?
Winter shook his head.
“I cannot,” he said with the slightest note of regret in his voice.
“You can’t or you won’t?” Nika snapped back at him, convinced that he was choosing to let her father die. Tears tumbled down her cheeks as she stared at Winter, contempt filling her at the thought that he was going to sit there and do nothing when he could save the man that meant the world to her. “You won’t… I don’t believe—” “Nika,” her father whispered and her attention was immediately with him. His eyes were dull and glassy as he looked at her. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” She released Winter’s hand and took hold of her father’s again. Sniffing back her tears, she managed another smile for him. “What’s there to be sorry for? You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let you.”
He
“Not Winter?” she said, a strange sense of relief filling her.
Winter knelt on the other side of her father.
“But why attack the village?” Nika fought hard to control the colliding emotions inside her—anger, sorrow, rage, fear, confusion. They all fought for control within her. With the smell of burning flesh in her nostrils and the sight of her father slipping away, she knew it wouldn’t be long before anger won and rage was victorious.
She frowned when her father’s hand moved from her coat collar to her cheek. It was so cold. She placed her free hand over it and held it against her face, hoping he could feel her and she could warm him. She tried to tell herself that he would be all right but she knew that she was losing him. Tears streaked her cheeks, hot lines that froze in the cold air, and blurred her vision.
“You,” he whispered.
Nika blinked, not understanding. Her? It couldn’t be her. She couldn’t be responsible for all this death. She hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t provoked their attack on her last night and this one on her village tonight. The thought turned her blood to ice. She trembled.
“Me?” she whispered as quiet as he had, the chill of being to blame for all this death stealing her voice. It couldn’t be true. She shook head slowly, unable to believe it. She hadn’t provoked the werewolves. She hadn’t. They had attacked her, made her like them. It didn’t make sense. Why was she to blame for all this death and suffering?
“The pact.” He coughed again and she held him a little tighter until the fit had passed. His breathing was rough and laboured, each wheeze crushing her chest with fear. “Your hand… to protect village. Pact broken… vampire… kept you… from him.”
She didn’t understand. Her eyes immediately sought Winter’s and she silently pleaded him to have an answer, to make the confusion go away and help her understand what had happened at the village. The last of her strength was rapidly leaving her. She didn’t want this.
She didn’t want her father to die. She didn’t want to be alone in this terrifying world.
Winter frowned heavily and looked down at her father. He removed the glove from his left hand and pressed his fingers against her father’s neck. Something dawned on Nika when she saw the colour of Winter’s eyes and the way they reflected like mirrors as the firelight shone on them.
“Bite him!” She dropped her father’s hand and grabbed Winter’s, clutching it tight. Her fingers clawed at it, pulled. Winter looked at her, expression emotionless, not budging an inch as she yanked on his hand. “Please. Bite him. If you change him, he doesn’t have to die. We can find out what happened here. We can save him. Please? Don’t let him die. Don’t let my father die!”
His purple eyes bore into hers and she squeezed his hand so tight that she was afraid that she would hurt him. Desperation consumed her, fierce and powerful, controlling her actions. She pulled on Winter’s hand with all her might, tugging him towards her father, as though she could force him to turn him. Could he turn her father?
Winter shook his head.
“I cannot,” he said with the slightest note of regret in his voice.
“You can’t or you won’t?” Nika snapped back at him, convinced that he was choosing to let her father die. Tears tumbled down her cheeks as she stared at Winter, contempt filling her at the thought that he was going to sit there and do nothing when he could save the man that meant the world to her. “You won’t… I don’t believe—” “Nika,” her father whispered and her attention was immediately with him. His eyes were dull and glassy as he looked at her. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” She released Winter’s hand and took hold of her father’s again. Sniffing back her tears, she managed another smile for him. “What’s there to be sorry for? You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let you.”
He
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