A Vial of Life (A Shade of Vampire, #21)

It seemed that the funeral had been very last-minute, and many of the humans were going about their day as though nothing had happened. Perhaps word of Kailyn’s death hadn’t yet spread past the supernatural community. Or perhaps my parents were deliberately holding back the news until after the investigation my father had spoken of with Ibrahim, so as to not plant unnecessary worry or fear in the minds of our human population.

I hurried back through the forest and arrived in the courtyard outside Corrine and Ibrahim’s home where the funeral ceremony was in full flow. Kailyn’s coffin had been placed in the center. I caught sight of Aiden at the front of the crowd. His eyes were red, but the rest of his face was quite expressionless. Stony, cold.

A few feet away stood Kira, who was still sobbing into Micah’s arms. He stroked the back of her head as he held her tight.

My parents also stood in the front row, along with a teary-eyed Rose and a grim-looking Caleb—whom I was seeing for the first time since arriving back.

Among the sea of other familiar faces, I also caught sight of Abigail Hudson. This was the first time I’d seen her since the day I’d first left The Shade all that time ago. She was standing a few rows back from the front, next to Erik. He had an arm around her waist while she rested her head against his shoulder. Both of their gazes were on the ceremony, their expressions worried and somber. I was pleased to have the chance to see her again. While the romance between us had never worked out, Abby and I had become good friends before I’d left. I’d wondered how she had been doing, and to see her in the arms of Erik was comforting. I was glad that she had found someone else, and if Erik was anything like the man Kiev had turned into for Mona, I was sure that he would make her happy.

Drawing my eyes away from Abby, I was about to move closer to the center of the courtyard through the crowds when my hearing was assaulted with a deafening tune. The same tune that had beckoned me across the Pacific. It started up again, louder than ever before. As was the case the last time I heard this melody on arrival within the island’s boundary, it was no longer beautiful to me. It was far too loud for me to appreciate it. It rang in my head so intrusively, I barely had room in my mind for my own thoughts.

Where is that sound coming from?

I glanced around the funeral ceremony once more and figured that now was as good a time as any to find out. I moved away from the courtyard, turning in a circle and straining my hearing to ascertain which direction the noise was coming from. It definitely wasn’t coming from anywhere near the beach behind me. No. The melody was coming from the mainland, its shrill tones piercing through the trees behind the witch’s temple. I followed the sound as best as I could, through miles of dark woods, until I neared the part of the island that was designated for agriculture. The trees thinned and gave way to meadows of corn and wheat, sprawling orchards, and a sea of vegetable fields. It was by the witches’ magic that we were able to grow such fresh produce without the rays of the sun.

I paused, trying to find my bearings. The tune was drifting toward me from the direction of the vegetable fields. I moved forward swiftly again, my feet grazing the soil. I passed through several fields, until the melody reached a fever pitch and stopped. My mind stopped ringing and the quiet, soothing sounds of the island returned.

But it meant that I’d lost the trail again. Now I might need to wait hours before it started up… although it had sounded so close to me. It’d been louder than ever a few seconds ago. I was certain that it came from somewhere in these very fields surrounding me.

I stopped amidst the potato crops and scanned the area once again. To my left was a thin line of trees, marking the border between the potato and cauliflower fields. At the end of this row of trees was a small farmhouse that hadn’t been inhabited for decades. Although I’d spent most of my life on this island, I was quite sure that I had never stepped inside of it, even as a child.

Then I spotted something strange. Gathered beyond the building, deeper into the cauliflower crops, was a crowd of people. Except, as I moved closer, they weren’t exactly people. They were… ghosts. Perhaps fifty of them, all hovering near the farmhouse.

I was momentarily stunned. I found myself rooted to the spot, just staring at this odd crowd. There were men and women of all ages, and even some children. Some wore casual, modern clothes like jeans and t-shirts, while others wore outfits that looked like they belonged in the eighteenth century; the women wore long, heavy frocks, while men donned breeches, cravats, and pleated coats. The only thing in common was that their attire looked ripped and ragged, and sometimes even stained with blood. That, and they all appeared to be humans, or rather had been humans in their former lives.