part0033

“ S ouls, we’re looking for souls, anyone have any souls for sale?” a man dressed as a businessman asks. “Ah, you, you’re awake.” He smiles pleasantly, opening his palm to reveal a still-beating heart with a name carved into the bloody organ.

Jolting awake, a cold chill tingles up my spine, my breath heavy and taxed. “What the…” I look around, a scream welling up inside my throat.

Oh God, I’m still in the same bed. His bed. Stripped completely naked.

“Ethan?” I call out, my voice echoing in the darkness. “Ethan, where are you?”

I receive no answer save my own frightened voice as it bounces off expressionless walls, mocking the silence.

Clenching my eyes closed, a soft mewling starts as I count to ten in my head.

One, two, three…why is this happening to me?

Four, five, six…this isn’t real.

Seven, eight, nine…wake up, Hannah, wake up!

“I’m here.” Ten.

Cracking one eye open, I’m relieved to find it is Ethan and not something else. Like that person or thing in my dream.

Holy hell, I must be losing my mind.

“Hannah,” Ethan says my name, stalking closer with his hands outstretched. “I know you must be feeling…” he trails off, eyeing me with curiosity.

“Strange, I’m feeling…” I mutter softly, pausing as I gaze around the barely lit room for clues. “So very strange,” I finish almost helplessly. “And yet, I feel as if I’m supposed to be here, right now.”

His lips curve into what I think is meant to be a sympathetic smile. “Yes, my love, that’s all normal.”

“Normal?” I ask, sensing there’s more he’s going to tell me.

“You’re one of us, now.”

I try not to lose it. “One of whom?” I question shakily.

He laughs demonically. “You and me and many more, we’re what they call…creatures of the night.

As much as I want to play dumb, I can’t, because I know exactly what he’s referring to. He means that we’re dead or undead, something along those lines. I feel it, too. Dead…and yet not. Like there’s something inside me missing, but also something new and undiscovered…

He’s suddenly beside me on the bed, caressing my face. “You’ve put the pieces together, haven’t you, my love?” His face seems dispassionate, but there’s something almost sweet in his tone.

Tears leak from the corner of my eyes, and I almost laugh in relief that I’m still able to do something so ordinary, so human. It’s odd to describe, but I know I’m still me. I’m still the Hannah Vale that grew up with an overbearing father.

Dear, God…my father. I’d forgotten all about him up until this moment, and now more than ever, that day seems like a distant memory…

“Hannah!” my father called impatiently. “Your breakfast is getting cold!”

Hurrying in my guilt, I slid my forbidden book from the library underneath one of the loose floorboards in my bedroom. Just in case I couldn’t go through with it. See, Father didn’t approve of romance novels. He said they did nothing but rot a young girl’s brain.

The last time he’d caught me with what he called a ’forbidden book’, I’d been put on a water and bread diet for a week straight.

It hadn’t been the first time, but I hoped it would be the last.

My father’s punishments were always extreme, starting from the age of thirteen. He’d had to teach me the ways of being a clean, proper young lady.

Only, I didn’t care for his methods and often wished for an end to it all…

He’d started playing the song, the song I’d come to hate, which meant I needed to get downstairs soon. It was strange but that tune, those words spoke to me. After so many times of hearing it, I’d started to become one with it.

This was the day, I thought to myself, swiftly climbing down the stairs. I’d end that old man’s suffering once and for all. With sweaty fingers, I clasped a kitchen knife in my right hand, hidden behind my back.

Only, I was too late. When I reached the bottom step, my father was reaching for me, one hand over his chest. I’ll never forget the way his mouth hung open, like a pig’s waiting to be stuffed with an apple.

My father died that day, at the age of 48, of a stone cold heart attack.

“What’s that song you’re singing, my love?” Ethan asks, slightly pulling my hair to grab my attention.

Licking my lips, I tell him the truth. “A song my dad used to play by The Coasters .”

“I know you wanted to kill him, your father, didn’t you, Hannah?”

“Yes,” I admit, meeting his icy-blue gaze. “Yes, I wanted him dead.”

He chuckles. “But the heart attack came first, that’s too bad, my love.” His tone implies sympathy but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything.

I nod in agreement. “That’s right.”

I should be asking how he knows all this, but I honestly don’t care how he knows.

He knows, and that’s enough.

Ethan starts to climb over me, the feel of his breath against my chest sending waves of heat straight to my core. “You have me now, my love,” he says softly. “I’m all you’ll ever need, ever desire.”

He’s starting to sound more and more like my father, someone who only wishes to control me.

And I can’t have that, no matter what I’ve become. No matter how much I might desire him, a monster.

I need to get back to my friends who I’d somehow been separated from at the party, but first I need to see the man beneath the mask. Who is Ethan Winchester, really?

With a shaking hand, I reach up before his lips meet mine, ripping the mask from the right side of his face…

Gasping, I take in the horror…

It’s as if someone tried to rip the flesh from his face.

Long, claw-like scars rake his right cheekbone all the way up to his eye and hairline.

An eye that came close to being ripped from its socket, I can tell because there’s a piece of skin completely missing…

My hand covers my mouth as I take in his dark, tragic beauty.

Growling, he yanks the mask from my grip. “You’ll pay for that,” he threatens, jumping up and turning away while fumbling to put the mask in place.

“I’m sorry, so sorry…” I whisper, half heartbroken for him. “I had no idea…”

He twists his mask back into place. “Now, what?” he snarls like a beast about to trample. “I’ll not stand for your pity.” He advances on me, murder in his eyes.