With a sudden burst of energy, I darted across my room to grab my Book of Shadows. I gripped it tightly, staring at the brown leather and the black, scripted letters and the pentacle’s imprint on the front cover. I flipped through to a blank page, took my black ink pen, and, trying to stop my hands from shaking, transcribed all I’d learned onto the parchment.
Cruor: Also known as ‘Earth elementals’. Vampire-like creatures sent by the ‘Universe’ to protect humans. Something went wrong. They live by feeding on human blood and have mind-control powers. Their blood heals injury and disease. Can be killed by staking, decapitation, or exposure to sunlight.
Influence: What Cruor call their mind-control powers.
The Maltorim: The elemental council.
I shut my book, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Great. I knew more about their world than most people, but still had no answers about my ancestor.
Though the noise was gone from my mind, the empty space where it’d once been thrummed against my skull. I couldn’t give up on my ancestor. I would have to look into the book’s previous owners of the book Paloma gifted me. I’d run a search on the address after sleeping away the sickness roiling in my stomach over everything I’d learned.
When I finally drifted to sleep, the nightmares returned: Elizabeth’s court document tumbling in a cold breeze through the dirt roads of a Puritan settlement. A noose cutting into her neck. My ancestor kicking her legs and digging her nails against the rope, looking around for someone—anyone—but the town was quiet. Then people started gathering, shuffling with empty eyes and sluggish steps.
They’d come to watch her die.
They smiled, and moonlight glinted off their fangs.
Elizabeth’s thoughts whispered on the breeze: Don’t tell a soul, Sophia. Don’t tell anyone of our curse.
But the warning had come too late.
Chapter 9
I AWOKE to dawn’s russet sky—a shepherd’s warning, some said.
I shook away the eerie fog of sleep by refreshing myself with a dose of reality: people’s hands were bound during hanging. My nightmare wasn’t real, or even reasonable for that matter.
Yesterday, though, was not just a bad dream.
Green electric numbers glared at me from the alarm clock on my dresser: 6:17 am. I glared back. I’d slept straight through the day and night.
Once out of bed, I stared into my open closet. Dress pants or jeans? Jack wouldn’t care if I wore jeans to work. Some of the girls never wore uniform pants.
Since when did I care?
I settled for a boho casual look: an earthy brown, cream, and green-toned mandala print top with small touches of peacock-blue and a gathered keyhole neckline. I’d never worn it before. Not wanting to hunt down the scissors, I took the tags off with my teeth. I paired the shirt with medium-wash blue jeans tucked into my Eskimo boots.
The full-length mirror mounted to the back of my bedroom door revealed no visible traces of the attack. I grabbed a hair tie off the doorknob. With the elastic in my mouth and my hands pulling my hair back, I changed my mind. Maybe I should leave my hair down. For me. Not at all because I was hoping to run into anyone. Especially not Charles.
I bustled into the kitchen and made myself a quick breakfast of toast and orange marmalade with a glass of milk.
Red chirped from the corner of the kitchen. After I changed his food and water, I slung my workbag over my shoulder and started out the door for Jack’s, but when I spotted the note taped to the inside of my front door, I froze, hand hesitating on the doorknob.
My gaze dropped to the signature first. The note was signed, Yours Truly, Marcus.
Heart slamming against my chest, my eyes shot up to the words above.
So lovely to meet you, Sophia. Such a shame about your parents, your father especially. Do not let curiosity blind you as it did him. I do hope our paths cross again one day soon.
</block>
I yanked the note from the door, shredded it with my hands, and threw it in the trash. My heart pounded in my ears as I ran, shaking, to my Jeep. What the hell was that creep doing in my house? How did he know where I lived? How did he know about my dad, or perhaps more importantly what did he know about him?
What if he’d done something to me while I’d been sleeping? I swallowed, then pressed my hands against my neck and slid them over my arms. I’d feel different. I’d know, somehow. I would have to know.
I needed a way to protect myself. Ivory’s suggestions were useless if the Cruor could break into my home without my knowing. I sped to the diner, flipping open my cell as I drove.
Come on, Ivory…pick up. Come on, come on.
After two rings, the call shot over to voice mail. Great. She wasn’t taking my calls. I hung up, my hands still shaking. I considered calling out of work, but I had nowhere else to go—not with these problems, not if Ivory was avoiding me. At the very least, I would surround myself with people until I could get in touch with someone who might help.
***