ReAwakened Read online

  My father, the man I thought would always be by my side, had been brutally murdered, torn away from me before I had a chance to tell him that I loved him. My mother, the woman I finally learned about after years of searching for answers, had died long before I was even born. Training was the only thing that kept my mind from wandering into the dark depths of self-pity, blame, and sorrow.

  When Sebastian found me, I was out in the meadow behind the cottage, relentlessly taking out my frustration on an innocent punching bag. With each hit, I transferred the pain inhabiting my soul into the body of the equipment. My punches and kicks had torn through the tough leather exterior, allowing small pieces of soft, yellow foam to escape and float freely to the ground. Every strike left me feeling slightly more powerful as my mind became somewhat less burdened. This only spurred on my determination to shred through the entire bag.

  Submerged in my goal, I didn’t hear Sebastian approach until he reached me. Before registering who he was, my foot made contact with his torso and sent him flying across the meadow. A slight groan escaped his lips as he collided with a thick tree trunk. Stunned, I opened my mouth to apologize, but before I knew it, he had recovered and was back in front of me.

  “Bad day?” he asked. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his light eyes sparkled with amusement.

  I silenced the frustration rumbling in my chest before it had a chance to cross my lips. The odd—and exciting—thing about Sebastian was that he possessed the ability to push all my buttons. He had the power to wind me up with simple words and actions, and while often fun and exhilarating, it could sometimes teeter into dangerous I-want-to-rip-his-head-off territory. The first time I met him, it had taken all of my willpower to keep from punching him. Yet at the same time, I had found myself incredibly drawn to him. This kiss-and-kill desire had continued to grow, increasing in intensity as we spent more time together.

  When Sebastian asked, “Would it help if you had a sparring partner?” I jumped at the opportunity to finally have my way with him. A vampire since 1875, he’d had many opportunities to develop his combat skills. He was extremely strong, two years older, and at least a head taller than I—a worthy opponent.

  “Bring it on,” I said, turning my attention from the punching bag to the handsome vampire in front of me.

  “Are you sure about that?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, drawing the white cotton material of his t-shirt tightly across his muscular torso. Looking down at me through long, dark lashes, he challenged me with his steely silver gaze.

  “Definitely.” My voice was resolute, but for a brief moment, I felt a fleeting sense of alarm. While I may have indulged in a few daydreams about kicking Sebastian's butt, my current aggression had nothing to do with him. It was brought on by something completely different—something much darker and more unpleasant.

  My split second of hesitation presented him with an opening. In one quick move, he swept my foot, sending me tumbling to the ground. But right before my body collided with the leaf-covered grass, he caught me in his arms. A mischievous smirk flashed across his lips as he set me straight. The lighthearted manner in which he was approaching the situation only spurred on my foul mood.

  “You shouldn't go easy on me,” I warned heatedly. “I’m definitely not going to go easy on you.”

  His grin widened. “Well then, show me what you've got, Fairchild.”

  I didn't need to be told twice. Sebastian blocked my first punch, though the uppercut I threw immediately after caught him square across the jaw, snapping his head back. He quickly recovered, and before I had a chance to draw back my arm he trapped my wrist, flipping me onto my back. This time, I hit the grass with a loud thud, sending a shockwave of pain through my entire body. Flipping up to my feet, I delivered a string of roundhouse kicks directly into his ribcage. He managed to avoid a few, but most landed exactly where I intended. However, he was ready for my final kick, and grabbed my left leg with both hands.

  “Where are you gonna go now?” he teased.

  A heated growl escaped my throat as I fought to maintain balance. Using his grasp on my body as a crutch, I bent my free leg and launched up into the air. I gained enough height to hook my right leg around the back of his neck, springing myself onto his shoulders. Utilizing his six-foot-four frame to my advantage, I extended both of my arms and grabbed onto the nearest tree. With all my strength, I yanked my leg out of his grasp, pulling myself up to a safe perch on the branch.

  Sebastian looked up, his eyes narrowing in surprise. “Impressive,” he said, laughing. “Should we call a truce?”

  But I wasn't quite finished yet. I jumped down from the tree, wincing slightly as I landed, but resuming my attack with a rapid succession of punches.

  Jab, hook, cross, uppercut...jab, jab, hook.

  It was as if all the aggression I had been bottling up since my father’s death was being released. There was no stopping it—no stopping me. Sebastian avoided most of the hits by quickly shifting back, but after a few dozen punches, he realized that there was more to my vigorous assault than a simple, friendly sparring match.

  The playful smile fell from his lips, and his eyes lost all signs of humor. Through my sudden veil of tears, I could see the worry painted across his face.

  “Dawn…” he began gently as he evaded yet another strike. “Do you want to talk?”

  “No.” The word was a short, clipped gasp. “I want to fight.”

  Hook, cross, cross.

  Moments later, I had Sebastian pinned against the outside wall of the cottage. He didn’t fight back. Instead, he stayed still, absorbing my punches with his abdominal muscles. As my arms grew weaker and my tears became heavier, he trapped my wrists with his hands, drawing me to his chest.

  “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my hair. “With me, you’ll always win, Dawn.”

  For the first time since we began our sparring match, I was suddenly aware of him—all of him. Aware of the soft black curls tumbling across his forehead, aware of the firm muscles on his chest and stomach, and aware of the intense heat in his silver eyes. Most of all, I was aware of the strong current coursing through my body, luring me toward him. He laced his fingers through my hair and pulled me deeper into him. His lips collided with mine, drawing me out of the darkness toward a warm, safe light. With a simple kiss, he had managed to absorb so much of my pain.

  We spent the rest of the night lying in the grassy meadow behind the cottage, gazing up at the stars, sharing a peaceful stillness. I welcomed the silence. Confronting it with Sebastian didn’t feel as lonely.

  But now, as I set out toward Angel Creek, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this serenity I had encountered was simply the calm before the storm; that there would be much more pain in the time to come—pain that could not be warded off with a simple kiss.

  The drive from the cottage to the outskirts of town took a quick fifteen minutes. Seth, who didn’t share my love for high speeds, arrived shortly after, carefully approaching my parked convertible with his mom’s van. I waited for him to catch up, then led our two-car convoy into the heart of Angel Creek.

  Every time the trees parted to reveal the unique architecture of the picturesque town, I found myself admiring it. All of the significant buildings, along with some smaller stores and offices, were located along Main Street. Though every structure—from the stately town hall to the most diminutive of the antique shops—was adorned with bright white columns, they each had their own distinctive features. The Grecian and Roman influences of neoclassical architecture were most prevalent throughout the town, but they intertwined with unique Gothic twists to create some of the most unusual structural designs I had ever seen.

  As I drove along Main Street toward the town hall, I noticed that even during a festival day Angel Creek’s streets and narrow cobblestone sidewalks were completely deserted. I pulled my car into a small lot behind the building, while Seth opted for an empty p
arking spot on the street. We gathered underneath a large white banner by the entrance.

  Congratulations, Guardians! it commended in bright blue.

  Moments later, we were joined by Hunter, and I had to physically force myself not to gape at his surprising transformation. Beside me, Brooke stifled a gasp. The scruffy, torn-jeans-and-band-tee-wearing vampire cleaned up nicely. Very nicely. Dark gray dress pants and a black suit jacket clung fashionably to his tall, wiry frame. His sobriety had aided in filling out his gaunt face, in turn bringing out his most striking feature—his eyes. No longer sunken and vacant, they shone like bright jade jewels as he regarded us with perfect clarity. Though I was pleased by the numerous positive changes, I smiled upon noticing that he hadn’t completely let go of his quirky fashion sense. His long, brown hair was streaked with various shades of green, adding a playful twist to his look.

  We exchanged a quick greeting as my gaze drifted away from Hunter to scan the area for signs of Sebastian. I was expecting to see his trademark dark, wavy locks emerge from behind the town hall, but he was nowhere in sight.

  “Let’s get this show on the road!” Seth called out, drawing my attention back to the group. With a tiny swirl of worry blooming in the pit of my stomach, I followed the rest of the team into the building.

  Inside the small lobby, Brooke leafed through the program provided by the concierge. I peered over her shoulder, glancing at the brief schedule outline. Information regarding each of the new guardians filled the next few pages. As Brooke flipped through, I noticed that the recruits’ details were very scarce.

  Seth Lee. 16. Junior at Angel Creek High. Son of Ivy and John Lee.

  Brooke Mason. 17. Senior at Angel Creek High.

  Sophie Reed. 18. Librarian.

  Hunter’s simply said: Hunter Woods. 21.

  Underneath my name, there was a full paragraph about my training, education, and life as the former Vampire President’s daughter. On top of that info overload, the segment went on to talk about how I was an elite breed of vampire—a Born—stronger, faster, and more rare than any Made vampire. A vampire who grew and aged like a human, only claiming immortality upon giving birth to a child.

  “They managed to describe fifteen different weapons you’re an expert in, but they couldn’t even mention that I’m running for prom queen?” Brooke moaned.

  For the past fifty years, Brooke had been traveling across the country, moving from one high-school to another, chasing after the ever-elusive prom queen crown. She had already spent the entire summer rallying for the title, but once school had started, the polls still showed that she was losing to her rival.

  “I have to win this year,” she said. “It’s the last year that I’ll ever be a high-school student!”

  Sophie’s eyes lit up. “You’ve finally decided to graduate?”

  Brooke sighed. “More like, I’m finally being forced to graduate. After coming into power, President Twitbrook implemented this stupid No Vampire Left Behind policy. Vampires are no longer allowed to keep repeating grades in school. Even if they happen to be seventeen forever.”

  “That’s great!” Sophie clapped her hands. “You can finally go to college.”

  “Oh, yeah. So great,” Brooke grumbled sarcastically as she stalked away toward the ceremony room.

  The small space was overflowing with people. Animated conversations carried throughout the room; excited voices bounced off vaulted ceilings. The talk centered on us—everyone had an opinion about the new town guardians. Most of them, unfortunately, appeared to be less than positive. As we made our way to the podium at the front of the hall, my sensitive hearing allowed me to listen in on the gossip.

  “Ivy and John are going to disown that son of theirs when they find out what he’s been up to,” an elderly woman in one of the back rows whispered.

  “Mmm-hmm,” her companion agreed.

  “Who’s the cute guy with the green hair?” a girl near the front asked her friend.

  “It’s that druggie rocker guy, Hunter.”

  “No way! Really?”

  “Stop checking him out, Jess. We have standards.”

  “Little Sophie is such a sweet girl,” one of Sophie’s librarian coworkers said to her friend.

  “Yes, she is. But do you really see her protecting anyone from anything?” the other woman shot back.

  The librarian let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re right. I don’t. She’s even lenient with overdue book fees.”

  “That new chick is hot!” I recognized the gruff voice of the captain of Angel Creek High’s football team.

  Brooke’s cheerleader friend scoffed. “Sure, if you like cheap, fake contacts. That weird purple shade can’t be her real eye color.”

  The football player chuckled. “Who’s looking at her eyes?” I selectively tuned out his explicit description of my behind, rolling my eyes as I heard him receive a high-five from one of his teammates.

  “I miss the Fab Five,” someone else groaned. “This group is like the poor man’s Fab Five.”

  “I know. I can’t believe we’re expected to feel safe with them as our guardians.”

  Even Mayor Rivers was telling his wife that “it was a good thing that Angel Creek didn’t actually need any protecting.”

  I hoped the other team members weren’t listening in on the gossip. It seemed that most of Angel Creek had come to watch the initiation for their own amusement, instead of because they actually believed in the guardianship abilities of our group. And now, we had to smile through an entire hour of pomp, circumstance, and fake congratulations.

  We made our way to the seats behind the podium, standing for Angel Creek's haunting anthem, then sinking into our chairs for Mayor Rivers’ speech. He first talked about the long history of the town, which was followed by an over-the-top goodbye to the Fab Five, our guardian predecessors who had left their posts in Angel Creek to pursue Hollywood dreams. A few audience members went so far as to break down in tears during this part. I spent most of the time searching the room for Sebastian. To my surprise, he had yet to show up.

  At last, Mayor Rivers introduced our group, bestowing upon us the prestige of the guardian role. Every area of the U.S. had a group of vampires responsible for protecting the humans. Bigger cities were divided up into various quadrants with numerous vampire guardians. In a small town like Angel Creek, the five of us sufficed. It had been three years since the fated spring of 2012 when vampires “came out of the coffin,” but aside from keeping peace between humans through mundane tasks like settling physical disputes and preventing burglaries, most of the guardians’ duties were simply for show. Nevertheless, vampires entrusted with guardianship were held in high regard—especially as reports of rogue vamps who subverted the current status quo grew more prevalent—and the position was an extremely esteemed and highly sought-after one.

  He concluded by saying, “We are so honored to have such strong, clever, and capable protectors as Angel Creek’s official guardians.”

  Two teens in the front row snickered.

  “Strong? Can that geeky guy Seth even run?”

  “Brooke’s in my English class and there’s nothing clever about that girl. She thinks that Shakespeare is a U.K. fashion designer.”

  I squeezed Brooke’s hand. “Don’t listen to them,” I whispered in her ear.

  “That’s easy for you to say,” she huffed. “Your biggest problem is that you have a nice butt.”

  My biggest problem was that Sebastian was nowhere to be seen, I mused silently.

  I didn’t personally care about the overtly pretentious ceremony, but I was surprised that he hadn’t even bothered to show up after having assured me that, even if he had no interest in being a guardian himself, he would be there to support our team. Right now, the group needed to know that there was at least one audience member cheering them on. As the crowd erupted into applause over something Mayor Rivers said, I tried to swallow my disappointment and focus on the ceremony.

  After the
speech, we were presented with our guardian rings. They were platinum in color, their large, round faces encrusted with diamonds. The moment the bulky piece of jewelry touched my hand, I realized just how inconvenient it would be during an actual fight. Regardless, I smiled and graciously accepted the token. My heart gave a little tug as my eyes fell upon the crimson Scarlet House crest engraved in the center of the ring. It was imprinted with an image of an animal that looked like a snake with a lion’s head and eagle’s wings. The snake stood for both the transformation humans underwent upon being turned, as well as the supremacy of the vampire species; the lion—with fangs no less—signified courage and wisdom. The eagle’s wings were tacked on the creature more recently to represent the new relationship with the United States and to honor the vampire president. The emblem had been carved into my father’s presidential office door, always stamped on top of all of his official documents. Though somewhat gruesome in appearance, it would forever remind me fondly of him.

  Finally, after two long hours of torture, the ceremony came to an end. Not with a bang or a whimper, but rather, with a lot of chair scraping. The four vampires sitting beside me gave out a collective sigh of relief. We waited until everyone had piled out of the town hall, then leisurely made our way toward the renowned Hamilton Park where the dance was being held.

  By the time we arrived, the celebration was in full swing. The year had already taken a large bite out of September, but the day was warm and sunny, so the town’s party committee had decided to set up the dance floor on the park grounds, rather than inside the inn adjacent to it. The festive décor was simple but tasteful. Bright silver lanterns hung across the roof of the white gazebo, and even during daylight, the magnificent structure seemed to emit an otherworldly glow. Blue, white, and silver balloons bounced around in the wind, securely tied down to tables lined with snacks and punch. One station was full of human food and drink, the other filled with vampiric treats. Garlic goodies—ironically, the only substance in the world providing vampires with protection against the sun’s harmful rays—were neatly arranged on top of the table alongside cans upon cans of Blood Cola. Recently trademarked by one of the biggest soft-drink conglomerates, the fizzy substance was the most widespread source of nourishment in the world—a modern vamp’s drink of choice.