ReAwakened Read online

  “Oh, I know,” I shot, aiming the words directly at him. “But Lena and another vampire went to look for Sierra. They’ve been gone for five days, and...” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I think they’re also missing.” It was the first time I’d voiced my fears about Sebastian’s disappearance. Saying the words out loud somehow made them seem more real.

  Twitbrook gave out a dramatic sigh, his breath crackling through the receiver. “I really want to help you, Dawn. I do. But, I don’t think it would be very helpful if I indulged in this crazy fantasy of yours by allowing you to run around and chase the Born Boogeyman. I think we both know that you’re still hurting from what happened to your father.”

  How dare he bring my father into this?

  I held the phone away from my ear, struggling with the strong desire to fling it across my bedroom. Instead, I took a deep breath and continued to listen.

  “I’m holding a long-overdue memorial for Alastair this Sunday. I think it would do you a world of good if you came,” Twitbrook said. “Your father did so much for us and we owe him a proper send-off. He was such a—”

  “I’ll come,” I said, desperately wanting to shut him up.

  I knew exactly who my father was, and I didn’t need Twitbrook to pretend to care. The last thing I wanted to do was appease his ego by attending, but I figured that the trip to the Scarlet House would provide an opportunity to get closer to finding out exactly how deep his involvement ran. Even if he wasn’t directly to blame for the disappearances, Twitbrook’s hands weren’t clean—I was sure of it.

  The closer the impending memorial date loomed, the harder I trained. Pushing myself to my physical limits always helped to clear my mind, and I needed that now more than ever before. I had to shut out the guilt I still felt over my father’s passing; I had to force myself to stop worrying about Sebastian. I needed to be strong for the team.

  The more I worked, the less time I had to think. Though I tried to deny it, I knew that the training was just a crutch—a temporary distraction from all of the problems I had yet to face. The fragile dam I’d built around my mind would eventually tear apart, and a waterfall of emotion would cascade from behind it, spilling over into me, forcing me to face reality. But for now, it held together. In turn, I held together.

  The day before our trip to the Scarlet House, the team put in sixteen hours of instruction. I was so absorbed in the training that before I knew it, morning had turned into afternoon, and the afternoon had rapidly dissolved into night. To my surprise, the group worked without complaint. In fact, they didn’t say much at all. Instead, they tiptoed around me, treating me as if I was a porcelain doll that might shatter at a moment’s notice. Even Sophie, who had spent days working hard to catch up to the rest of the team’s physical supremacy, was going easy on me.

  Finally, I couldn’t take any more pity and set off for what I had hoped would be a relaxing run through the forest. Just me, alone with the pounding of my boots, the crunch of the dry leaves, and the cool autumn breeze. Before long, I felt myself gravitating toward the one place I had been turning to lately when in need of stillness and serenity—Sebastian’s house. Ever since my arrival in Angel Creek, I’d been drawn to this secluded mansion. This time, I knew with certainty that it would be empty, devoid of the one person who, without ever saying much, could always succeed in comforting me. Or, at least, the one person who could shift my focus away from the problem at hand to him.

  Depleted, I collapsed on the stone steps of the mansion. The run had left me winded, but it had failed to quiet my mind. I threw back my head and gazed up at the sky where the clouds had formed a smoky veil across the moon. Slowly, they began to shift, and a thin ray of white light broke through, bathing me in brightness. Taking a deep, calming breath, I leaned farther into the porch, stretching out my arms behind my head. The comforting smell of the forest filled my nostrils—a blend of pine needles, dewy grass, and cool, crisp, autumn air.

  “I’m going to be okay,” I whispered aloud.

  Even without my father.

  Even without Sebastian.

  I didn’t have a choice, after all.

  I relaxed my body against the smooth stone, feeling the tension slowly drain away. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a flicker of light. A lamp lit in one of the upstairs bedrooms. A lamp which, without a doubt, had been switched off the last time I had been in Sebastian’s home. I nearly tripped over my own feet as I scrambled for the key under the welcome mat. I unlocked the door, flinging it open.

  “Sebastian?” My voice echoed down the empty hall.

  Upstairs, a door slammed. I raced to the second floor, taking the stairs three at a time.

  “Sebastian?” I called again, certain that whoever was in the house wasn’t actually Sebastian. “Hello?”

  Immediately, I found the room the light had emanated from.

  Empty. And dark.

  Whoever had been inside, was nowhere to be found. The wide-open window with its lace curtain swinging in the wind was the only sign of the intruder’s presence.

  Or so I thought.

  A cold shiver crept up my spine as I glanced down at the bedroom floor. The note from Sebastian’s fridge lay on top of the glossy hardwood—the paper torn into a thousand tiny pieces. With an uneasy shudder, I collected the litter and retreated home.

  The Scarlet House was no longer my home. That was evident the moment the Misfits and I reached the massive iron gates at the edge of the grounds. Long gone was my favorite guard, Vlad, the gray-haired vampire who had been in my father’s service for almost an entire century. He had been replaced by an array of young vampires in tight, red garments, vastly different from the traditional crimson and gold cloaks I’d grown up seeing around the property.

  The men in the guard booth busied themselves playing a card game, and it took three short honks and two longer, more aggressive ones before a guard finally stumbled toward my car. He placed his elbows on the driver’s side door and leaned in to examine me. His breath reeked of Blood Vodka, making me wish I hadn’t put down the top of the convertible. He peered at us through bleary eyes, then nodded to one of his colleagues—or rather, drinking buddies—in the booth. Clearly pleased with all of his “hard work” he flashed me a wide, drunken smile as the heavy gate swung open.

  Though the personnel at the Scarlet House had undergone a makeover, the grounds hadn’t changed at all. For that, I was grateful. The winding cobblestone walkways I’d traversed countless times, the old courtyard where I’d acquired most of my combat skills, the marble fountain that held memories of my many firsts—they were all unaffected by President Twitbrook’s reign. Even the descendants of the white orchids my mother had planted at the foot of the fountain were still there, preparing to wither as the days began to cool.

  My senses prickled as the team and I approached the enormous, castle-like building that had once been my home. It didn’t matter that the house still looked exactly like it had when my father was alive, I knew in my heart that things within would never be the same. My chest tightened as we walked through the large wooden door.

  “He’s not here,” I reminded myself, murmuring the words under my breath. “He’s not here.”

  Inside, we were greeted by disarray and chaos. Staff members—from guards to cooks to people who looked a lot like circus performers—ran around frantically, transforming the inside of the manor for the party. Thrown off-balance, and unsure of where to go, I stopped in the middle of the grand hall, watching the mayhem unfold as the figures flew by in a blur. I breathed a sigh of relief when my eyes fell on the familiar face of my old nanny, Elisa.

  “Dawn!” she exclaimed. Floating down the winding marble staircase, she scooped me up and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

  It had been mere weeks since I left the Scarlet House for good, but the changes in my life made it seem like years had passed. Elisa was still the tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed, always-smiling vampire I’d known
since birth, but the time apart had put an odd distance between us, severing our nanny-charge bond. Standing in her embrace, I hoped the change would lead us to fortify a new kind of bond—one based on friendship and trust. Right now, Elisa was the only person in the Scarlet House whom I could trust.

  “Where’s President Twitbrook?” I asked as the rest of the group wandered off to give us some privacy.

  Elisa sighed. “Our dear president is in his office, getting ready for the memorial,” she said. “Though, I have to say, it’s beginning to look less like a funeral for your father, and more like an inauguration celebration for Twitbrook.”

  I had figured as much.

  “Elisa,” I whispered, careful not to be overheard by the guards in the hall. “Have you heard any news about Born disappearances?”

  “Born disappearances?” Deep lines emerged above her eyebrows, then quickly smoothed as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear. Nothing comes to mind. Are you in danger?”

  “It’s starting to look that way.” I told her everything I knew.

  “I truly wish I could help,” she said. Seeing my forlorn expression, she patted my hand and offered a sad smile. “Unfortunately, I no longer spend time within the walls of the Presidential Office,” she said, her gentle voice breaking. “Things are different now.”

  Everything is different, I thought, looking around.

  “So you haven’t heard anything strange?” I prodded. “I think Twitbrook may be hiding something.”

  Suddenly, her expression darkened. “Now that I think about it, I did overhear an unusual phone call as I was walking by his office a couple of nights ago.” She shot me a remorseful look. “I know eavesdropping isn’t polite, but I thought I heard your name, so I stopped to listen.”

  “I did call earlier in the week.”

  Elisa shook her head. “No, this call wasn’t from you,” she assured me. “He was speaking to someone about you. I tried to hear what was going on, but I could only catch a few words before he got up and shut the door. He had it sound-proofed against vampire hearing, believe it or not, so I wasn’t able to make out much. I do recall hearing your name and the words suspicious and deliver, but I’m afraid that’s it,” she said glumly.

  My disappointment at the lack of useful information was evident, but the few little pieces Elisa had provided intrigued me further.

  Who was Twitbrook talking to about me? And why?

  “I really wish I could be more helpful,” Elisa said.

  I gave her hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy to see you. But if you do hear anything more, please let me know.”

  I bid her a temporary farewell as I set off toward Twitbrook’s office. He had requested I meet with him before the memorial, and I really hoped that seeing me in person would help persuade him to tell me more. I walked through the dimly-lit halls, keeping my gaze trained on the floor, desperately trying to shut out the memories surrounding me.

  How many times had I taken this route to my father’s office?

  Each twist and every turn, the smallest mark on the floor, and the tiniest chip in the wall, were deeply imprinted in my brain. Fortunately, I didn’t have long to dwell on the memories as I soon found myself at my destination. The large office door was slightly ajar. I placed my hand on the Scarlet House crest, preparing to push it open, when a woman’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “No, Allan, I’m not going to do that!” she was yelling from the other side.

  “It’s not up for discussion.” I recognized President Twitbrook’s deep voice. “You’ll do as I say.”

  “You’re certain that this will keep Beth safe?” The woman’s high pitched voice floated out from behind the heavy oak.

  Before Twitbrook had a chance to respond, a small, dark-haired girl slid past me, cheerfully skipping into the room.

  Exposed, I trailed behind her.

  Twitbrook looked as if he’d been caught with his hand in the garlic-jar. He shifted his gaze between the little girl and me, then quickly straightened and extended his hand.

  “Hello, Dawn!” he exclaimed a little too excitedly, clearly knocked off-guard by the intrusion. “How nice to see you!”

  How nice to see me at my father’s memorial service? Tactful.

  “Hello, Sir.” I responded politely. I needed to stay on his good side. At least, for now.

  He nodded, then motioned toward the pale, blonde woman standing beside him. “This is my wife, Laura,” he said as we shook hands. “And our daughter, Beth,” he announced, wrapping his arm around the little girl’s shoulders.

  Little Beth’s dark skin and midnight black hair were unlike either of her parent’s. She was adopted, no doubt, and a Born at that, as evident by the immense strength with which she gripped my hand.

  “You wanted to speak with me?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “I was hoping that you would say a few words at the memorial.”

  My heart sank. I had been expecting that Twitbrook wanted to discuss the Born situation. Instead, I was being roped into talking about my father in a public ceremony. I had barely allowed myself to reflect on his passing internally. How was I supposed to verbalize my thoughts in front of a large group of strangers?

  “Yes, of course,” I heard myself say. It didn’t matter how I felt about Twitbrook, honoring my father was the right thing to do.

  Twitbrook nodded, clearly pleased by my response. “Good. The service will begin at noon in the courtyard.”

  It was now or never. “Mr. President, I was wondering if you’ve received any new information regarding the situation we spoke about earlier this week.”

  Twitbrook’s expression turned to stone. “Like I said before, I have nothing to tell you, Dawn.”

  “So the Born—”

  He cut me off before I could finish the sentence. “I’m sorry, but my family and I must get ready now,” he said, nodding toward the exit. He picked up little Beth and took Laura by the arm. “We’ll talk later.”

  He nudged me out of the room, then immediately locked the door. Leaning against the heavy wood, I sank to the floor. When the team walked by a few minutes later, I was still sitting in front of the office, my head resting against my knees.

  “What do we do now?” Brooke asked gently.

  It was evident that I’d struck-out. Badly.

  “Now, we attend my father’s funeral,” I responded desolately.

  The turnout at the memorial was staggering. A sea of dark red and black figures—traditional colors for a vampire send-off—flooded the courtyard. My father had always been well-respected by the vampire and human public alike. I recognized many of the grim faces assembled in the courtyard, though it appeared that some of my father’s oldest, most trusted companions were missing. That, along with the abundance of new, young staff members, made me wonder about Twitbrook’s real agenda for the gathering. I didn’t have long to contemplate, though, as I was called upon to speak.

  One foot in front of the other, I slowly made my way to the podium. As if someone had suddenly turned off the lights, the world around me dimmed. My mouth went dry. Air vanished from my lungs. A splintering headache pierced my skull. This was no fear of public speaking. This was a fear of speaking about my father. Fear of saying the words he’s gone out loud.

  The gentle breeze toyed with the silk fabric of my burgundy dress as I stood motionless in front of the microphone. Sympathetic faces—vampire and human, young and old—stared back at me.

  Though my body had turned to stone, my mind overflowed with raw emotions. The feelings that I had been bottling up since my father’s death erupted from within the darkest depths of my psyche. They came in waves of color—deep black despair, bright crimson rage, cold white emptiness—even a soft golden yellow; a reminder of happier times that once were.

  There was so much I wanted to say…so much I needed to say.

  He was the best man I’d ever known.

&nb
sp; I love him.

  I miss him.

  I wish I could turn back time.

  But the words wouldn’t come.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, fighting back tears, but when I regained control of my emotions, my team was by my side.

  Sophie gently squeezed my shoulder and leaned toward the podium. She had to stretch on her tiptoes to reach the microphone.

  “I didn’t know President Fairchild well,” she began softly, pausing to gather her thoughts. “But one thing I do know well was that he was a good man. A great president. A wonderful father.” She turned to me with a small smile. I smiled back, touched by the sweet words she’d spoken about a man she’d only met once.

  Sophie stepped away from the podium, giving way to Brooke.

  “Alastair Fairchild was adored by all, and he returned that respect to his people. But, most importantly, he was loved by his daughter, Dawn. And he loved her too. More than anything in the entire world.” Brooke’s words reached deep within me, warming my insides, cracking the stone casing around my heart. “Any father would be proud to have her as his child,” she said sincerely, casting her dark blue gaze at me.

  Seth was up next. “Today, we mourn the loss of a great vampire. Tomorrow, we will go back to our lives, but President Fairchild will forever stay in our hearts as we carry with us the memory of a great and noble leader.”

  I hadn’t expected Hunter to speak.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, he sang.

  The soft melody of Amazing Grace filled the square. A hush fell over the audience. Even the birds quieted. His deep voice resonated throughout the courtyard, filling me with a tranquil serenity, slowly nursing the aching wounds in my soul.

  When the song concluded, I released a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. In fact, it seemed as if the entire audience exhaled in unison. I wiped away the tears that had silently made their way down my cheeks and took a deep breath.

  Finally, I stepped up to the microphone and turned to my team. “Thank you.” The two simple words could never express how thankful I truly was for them at this very moment. Each had shared a piece of themselves with me, in turn helping to make me whole again.