ReAwakened Read online

  “Who are you?” I demanded when I was certain he couldn’t escape my grip.

  “I’m a twenty-four-year-old Taurus who enjoys long walks on the beach.” Even though I couldn’t see his face, I could feel his arrogant grin.

  “You have ten seconds to explain yourself,” I ordered. “Or I’m really going to hurt you.”

  “Oh, come on! Can’t we get back to the kissing? You can’t tease a guy like that.”

  “Ten, nine…” I pressed the dagger into him, nicking the leather of his jacket.

  “Hey! Watch it!”

  “Eight…”

  “Oh, alright. You’re no fun,” he sighed. “My name is Razor.”

  “What kind of a name is that?”

  “It’s a nickname.”

  “What kind of a nickname is that?”

  “Spike, Blade, Fang—all the good, deadly objects were already taken. It was the best I could do.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m simply an innocent gentleman trying to survive an attack by a crazy girl,” he teased.

  “I’m going to start counting down again,” I warned.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you everything. But first, can you call off your pet dagger, please? I’ll be good, I promise.”

  I scoffed. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because…I’m irresistibly charming?” He turned his head to look back at me, and I could feel him smiling once again. “Come on, you know you’re curious about what I have to say.”

  “Alright,” I conceded. “But if you try something, I swear I’ll use my pet dagger to cut off—”

  “I said I’d behave! Though you’re making it kinda hard to be good with all that talk of wanting to have your way with me.”

  I released my grip on his neck and smacked the top of his head.

  “Let’s go inside,” I ordered. The storm had picked up during our fight, and the thunder was making it difficult to hear. I didn’t want to invite a stranger into Sebastian’s house, but I had to find out why he had been lurking there in the first place. I’d regained control. Razor—or whatever his name really was—was no longer a threat.

  Once inside, I illuminated our path with a candle and some matches I found on top of a console table in the hall, all the while, keeping an eye—and my dagger—on Razor. I led him into the living room, then pointed to the lone armchair next to the couch. He walked over to it but didn’t sit.

  “Do you have a towel? I’m soaked and wouldn’t wanna ruin this expensive-looking chair,” he said. “Oh, and some of that Blood Scotch I saw passing by the liquor cabinet would be great. I was just assaulted and need something to help me get through this rough time.” He gave me another one of his teasing smirks—a trademark move that no girl refused, I figured, vowing to never be one of those girls.

  I rolled my eyes. “Do I look like I’m here to serve you?” I asked through clenched teeth. All the while, I entertained the idea of breaking that bottle of Blood Scotch over his head. “I just want some answers and then you can be on your merry little way to bother someone else.”

  Razor shrugged. “I guess I’ll just have to air dry then,” he said, peeling off his wet jacket. The black tee was next. And then there was nothing left. Just a lot of bare skin, intricate tattoos, and well-formed muscle. I averted my eyes from his torso, kicking myself for not getting him that towel.

  “Use this,” I said, tossing him a throw blanket from the couch.

  He patted himself with the blanket, mopped up the water from his light brown locks, then sank into the chair. When I was sure it was safe, I risked a glance at his face. High-cheekbones, square jaw, full lips, smoldering dark eyes framed by long lashes. I had never seen the vampire standing in front of me—I was certain of that—but there was a vague familiarity in his features that I couldn’t quite place. It was as if he’d been a character from a distant dream or a long-forgotten memory.

  Peeling my eyes away before he misinterpreted my interest as something more than simple curiosity, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking around the place.”

  “Do you often break into people’s houses to ‘look around the place’?” I was still on guard, dagger ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

  He smirked. “I was looking for someone.”

  “And did you find them?” I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

  “No, but I found someone much more intriguing.” His smirk grew into a full-fledged grin.

  Ugh. “Who were you looking for?”

  “Sebastian York.”

  My senses perked up at the mention of Sebastian’s name.

  Razor noticed. “You know him,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

  I nodded.

  He arched a brow. “Hmm…know him or know-know him?”

  “That’s none of your business,” I snapped. I wanted him back on topic. “Why were you looking for Sebastian?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  I shot him an icy glare. “You broke in, remember?”

  “I came by this place because it’s the last known address I have for him,” Razor said, unperturbed. “Clearly, he doesn’t live here anymore. That is, unless he’s shacking up with a very angry vampire chick and her pet dagger.”

  “He’s not—we’re not. And, yes, he still lives here. I just came by to fix his window.” Why did I feel the need to explain myself to this intruder?

  “Do you often break into people’s houses to do work?” he teased. “I could give you my address, if you’d like. I have a few things that need taking ca—”

  “You still haven’t answered me,” I barked. “Why are you looking for Sebastian?”

  “You’re quite an intimidating interrogator, you know that, right?” That smirk again.

  “Don’t make me count down again,” I warned. “The way I see it, you have two options. One, you talk. Right now. Tell me everything—and I mean everything. Two, my pet dagger and I launch your butt out of this place. If you can’t already tell, that’s my preferred choice.” After everything that had happened recently, I was yearning for a good fight. “So, what will it be?”

  Razor leaned back in the chair and sighed. It wasn’t a sigh of defeat, but he gave in to my demands. “As much as I’d love to have another physical encounter with you, I suppose it won’t help me find out where Seb is.”

  With bated breath, I waited for him to continue.

  “I’m here because he and I have a lot of unfinished business, you could say. Someone told me that he’s supposed to be in Angel Creek again, so I came by the one place I thought he’d be. I did check out the house in town first, but now it’s some tourist motel—”

  “An inn,” I corrected.

  “Inn. Whatever.”

  And then it hit me.

  I suddenly realized exactly how I knew Razor. My knees gave out, and I staggered backwards.

  “Christopher York?!”

  It was Razor’s turn to look taken aback.

  “It’s you, isn’t it?” I whispered, aghast.

  I had been trying to figure out why the stranger in front of me looked so familiar. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that I knew him from the Hamilton House Tragedy memorial plaque. Sebastian’s parents and sister had been slain by Viktor’s army in 1875, the same night that Sebastian was turned. The plaque was erected in memory of the family, though Sebastian had told me that his older brother wasn’t at home the night of the massacre as his medical work had taken him away from Angel Creek. It was only after the newly-turned Sebastian had caught up with his brother and accidentally lost control that he had been killed. Or so Sebastian thought. But he was wrong. At least partly. I was standing in front Christopher York, and he was very much alive—for an undead vampire, anyway. He even came with a tacky nickname.

  My mouth went dry. I licked my lips, then cleared my throat in an attempt to loosen my vocal cords. Or perhaps, to delay speaking. I racked my brain for something sui
table to say, but nothing clever came to mind. “You’re Sebastian’s brother.”

  He grinned. “Amongst other things.”

  I peered into his face, trying to find similarities in their features. His short, light hair and smoky, charcoal eyes contrasted his brother’s long, black curls and bright silver gaze. Both were tall and undeniably handsome, though Sebastian’s kind of handsome was more severe; the type of good-looking that, at times, seemed almost unearthly. His older brother, on the other hand, was rugged, manly. Looking at the light, barely-visible scars across his body, it was evident that he lived for thrills.

  “You’re not…dead?” Immediately after the words left my lips, I felt stupid for asking the question.

  “Sorry to disappoint.” Razor—or, rather, Christopher—chuckled.

  “Sebastian told me…he thought...” I took a deep breath. “Sebastian thought he killed you.”

  “There was another doctor on duty at the hospital that night. As I lay there dying, he stabbed a syringe filled with Seb’s blood into my heart,” he explained, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “So I survived. Kind of.”

  My words jumbled yet again.

  “What did you—Where—Why didn’t—?”

  A little humor returned to his face as he watched me struggle. “You know, you actually have to finish a sentence for it to be considered a proper question.”

  “All these years…what happened to you?” I finally managed. It was a personal, probing question, one that I didn’t really have any business asking, but I couldn’t help myself.

  I was surprised when he answered candidly. “Well, I was turned and had to leave the practice. Being a vampire at a time humans didn’t know about vampires was bad enough, working in the hospital around all those tasty snacks was even worse. I was indebted to this doctor who saved my life, so I went to work for him.”

  “What did you do?”

  “This guy, Carl Jacques, ran an underground medical operation. He healed the sick using vampire blood. Back in the day, it was a pretty good arrangement for both vampires and humans. Since many less fortunate vamps needed the money, donating a little blood wasn’t a big deal. Sick humans with a lot of cash would practically throw it at us, as long as we could heal them, and as long as they didn’t know where the blood came from. The humans got better, the vampires were compensated for their contributions, and Jacques and I raked in the money.”

  “Sounds like a nice life,” I remarked sarcastically.

  He shrugged. “For a while, it actually was. A couple of years into it though, things changed. Vampires gained more power and were no longer interested in playing nice with humans. That’s when I found out that Jacques was a pretty sleazy guy.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “He began plucking vampires off the street against their will. First the homeless drunks and ladies of the night. Then even children. As long as he could get his hands on it, he’d grab it and drain it.”

  “And you let this happen?”

  “Of course not. What do you take me for?”

  “I’m not sure. I just met you. The jury is still out,” I said, then prodded him to continue. “What did you do about Jacques?”

  “I killed him. Then I came here, looking for Seb.” His voice dropped. “I also came to hunt down the bastard who killed my family.”

  I took care of that one for you, I thought, shuddering at the memory of Viktor’s twisted face. Perhaps it was a century too late, but the deed was done. I decided against bringing up that particularly gruesome topic. It wasn’t a story one shared on the first meeting with their sort-of-crush’s long-lost, presumed-dead brother.

  “Needless to say, I didn’t succeed in either endeavor,” he added glumly.

  “Then what happened?” I prompted.

  “Then I did some traveling, but mainly, I just partied. A lot. For a long time.”

  “Doesn’t that kind of go against your doctorly image?”

  “I’m not sure what kind of a doctorly image you have of me, but I can assure you that I was never the Good Doctor,” he said, winking. “Although, I’ve always been good at my craft. I’m rather great with my hands. As for my bedside manners—”

  “Okay, I’ve heard enough!” I cried, grimacing. “What brought you here now?” I asked once I was certain that he wasn’t going to try and demonstrate any of the “skills” he was bragging about.

  He chuckled. “You’re asking a lot of questions, Dagger Girl. Shouldn’t you first buy me dinner before demanding my entire life story?”

  I scoffed. He didn’t strike me like a “dinner first” kind of guy in any scenario. “Why are you back? Why now?” I repeated my question.

  “Ever since vampires came out to play nice with the humans three years ago, I’ve slowly been getting back into my healing work. In a legit manner this time. Healing humans with vampire blood is the new craze in alternative medicine, and there’s a lot of money in it. Plus, the partying got kind of old,” he explained. “Last month, I had this patient who came to Montreal all the way from Angel Creek. Her daughter was quite chatty, so once I waded through all her gossip, I managed to find out that my brother had suddenly reappeared here. I’d long given up on ever seeing him again, so I jumped at the opportunity to investigate her claim. I used to come to town every twenty years or so, looking for him, but this house was always empty.” He looked down, twisting the blanket in his hands. “I kept returning, hoping that one day he would be here. I refused to believe that he was gone.”

  “Sebastian thought you were dead,” I told him, remembering the sorrow that had flooded Sebastian’s eyes the only time he’d opened up to me about his brother. “He was haunted by what he’d done to you and the memories of your family’s tragedy. This year was the first time he came back to Angel Creek in over a century.”

  “You sure know a lot about my brother,” he remarked, studying me carefully.

  I shrugged. “I guess,” I said, though I felt like I hardly knew anything.

  “I refused to believe him when he told me he’d been attacked by vampires.” He chuckled sadly. “The joke’s on me, right?”

  For the first time since our unconventional meeting, my voice lost its guarded edge. “It’s not your fault,” I told him gently. It’s Viktor’s. And maybe even Aurora’s.

  “I know, but maybe if I’d done something—”

  “You can’t blame yourself, Christopher.”

  Something dark flashed in his eyes. “I told you, I go by Razor.” His stern expression warned that he didn’t want me to question him on this. Regardless, he must have realized that I was thinking about pressing the topic, because he elaborated. “Christopher York died a long time ago.”

  “When you were turned?”

  “When my family was killed.” The word family sounded clipped and harsh, as if it hadn’t passed across his lips in a very long time and he was just now pulling it from some distant place within him. “That name had been the last thing that tied me to anyone I’d ever known—anyone I’d cared about.” With that, he shut down.

  We were both quiet for a while. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my mind from drifting to the night that Sebastian opened up to me about the brutal loss of his family. His voice had held the same excruciating sorrow as Razor’s, his jaw possessed the same hardness. The York brothers dealt with the pain in different ways, but it was evident that both had been forever wounded by the tragic cards fate had dealt them.

  “I’m sorry, Razor.”

  He blinked the darkness out of his eyes, then smiled cheerfully. “Now that you’re all talk-showed out, how about that grub? I think you owe me after nearly slicing my poor jacket to pieces, don’t you?”

  I wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of getting grub with Razor, but having an ally in my search for Sebastian—despite the fact that he wouldn’t have been my first, or even my thirty-first choice—could prove to be helpful. If that meant that I had to stomach feeding him, then so be it.


  “How about a shower first?” I suggested, looking down at my mud-splattered clothes.

  He grinned. “If you insist.” His voice was once again back to its vibrant, teasing tone, though he became visibly less thrilled when I explained that we would be taking separate showers. I needed to grab a change of clothes from the cottage, so I gave him directions to our location in the woods, asking him to meet me in an hour.

  “Great,” he said. “And then you can tell me where to find Seb, right?”

  I nodded reluctantly. I had no idea how I was going to tell Razor that he had, once again, missed his brother. Or, more importantly, how I would share my fear that Sebastian was in deep, deep trouble.

  Back at the cottage, freshly scrubbed and smelling like lavender—since Brooke had also invaded my bathroom during her decorating crusade—I told the team about my encounter with Razor.

  “So this whole time, Sebastian was blaming himself for his brother’s death, while his brother was blaming himself for not helping Sebastian?” Brooke was trying to make sense of the situation.

  I nodded.

  “That’s so tragic,” Sophie sighed.

  “What’s even worse is that I have no idea what to tell Razor about Sebastian and Lena.” I groaned. “When he finds out that I don’t know when—or even if—Sebastian will be back—” I was cut off by the shrill ring of my cell phone.

  For days, I had been staring at the device, pleading with it to bring forth some news—any news—of Sebastian, but now, as I glanced down at the unfamiliar number on the screen, I was hit with the sobering realization that the call could mean many things. It could be Sebastian finally relenting and deciding to divulge the secrets behind his mission, but it could also be news about Sebastian—bad news. The likelihood of the latter was both more probable, and much more unbearable.

  My shaky fingers found the Answer key, and with my heart lodged in my throat, I held it to my ear. The voice on the other line wasn’t Sebastian’s. It belonged to a woman, and though her words were sprinkled with a light Spanish accent, it wasn’t Lena either.