HER SWEETEST DOWNFALL (Paranormal Romance / Fantasy Novella) (Forever Girl Series - a Journal) (6 page)

She nodded quietly, lifting her lashes until her gaze met his. He kept his attention steady on her as her hand slipped gently into his, and her heart pattered quicker in response. He pulled her to him as though she were weightless, as though the earth had reversed its gravity. 

His other hand came to rest on the small of her back, and he tilted his face, his nose grazing hers. “This—” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “This isn’t good for either of us.”

“I don’t care,” she said, staring at his lips as her free hand slid up to the firm curve of his shoulder. “Ethan . . . ”

She should not trust these feelings. She’d never been a good judge of character, and for that knowledge she’d always stayed away from men. Yet in Ethan’s arms, Ophelia felt small in size but tremendous in devotion.

He closed his eyes and breathed. “You smell like rain and strawberries.”

She inhaled slowly, taking in his own familiar scent of cloves. Their bodies swayed in a way that made her wonder if her legs had gone numb, and it felt as though his touch alone held her up.

Ethan swept his thumb over the bridge over her nose, tracing her freckles from there and across her cheekbones. His tender gaze focused on hers. “I’m going to kiss you now . . . if that’s all right.”

Ethan’s words hung in the air as her thoughts rushed by. No one had ever asked her permission before. While staying with Lady Karina, she’d had to fight off a few vile men who expected quite a bit more from the maids than Ophelia was willing to offer. Lady Karina’s brother had been one of them.

Stupid girl
,
he’d said when she rejected him.
You’d only be so lucky
.

 “Ophelia?”

“Yes,” she said, but her reply came too late.

He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He smiled down at her then, and the world around them shifted. The air vibrated, creating a haze of images, and then there was total darkness and the feeling they were falling. Falling through space, falling together.

They came out of the darkness just a few feet away from the woods. The air tasted of dirt and pine, and the night birds chirped from somewhere above. A queasiness washed through her, making her shiver, and she grabbed her stomach. 

“Welcome to Savannah,” Ethan said. He grabbed her at the elbow, helping to keep her steady. 

The nausea passed more quickly this time than the times before and, relieved, she smiled at Ethan. In the dark, she could barely make out the smile he gave in return, but she knew it was not one of happiness.

“What’s wrong?”

He glanced into the woods behind her. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“What do ye mean? We must.” He’d spent all that time convincing her, and now, as she made peace with the idea—as much as she could—he expressed doubts? “Ye said there was no other way.”

“We’ll find one.”

Ophelia stepped back, crossing her arms. “What aren’t ye telling me?”

He closed the distance between them once more. “Forgive me, Ophelia. I can’t do this to you. I thought I could, but I would forever regret putting you in such danger. There is no one less deserving of such a bleak future.”

“Where is the man of such devotion who was with me only hours ago? The man so willing of sacrifice?”

“You cannot compare sacrificing oneself to sacrificing another.”

“Don’t tell me the cause is now lost on ye. This is not about me alone; there are thousands of dual-breeds facing execution.”

“Or it could be your life that is lost. Perhaps . . . ” He closed his eyes a long moment before opening them again. “Perhaps I was devoted to the wrong things.”

“Ye don’t believe that,” Ophelia said sharply. “Why is this coming up now? Ye said this Cruor would be receptive.”

“She will be. Eventually . . . ” His gaze refocused on her. “I don’t exactly know her, only what my guardian told me of her when explaining what my calling would entail. I was told she would be receptive if she would hear what I have to say first.”

“If?”

“Before she kills us. A chance I cannot take with you.”

Ophelia searched his eyes, finding nothing more than the empty weight of hopelessness. How could she put her own, single life above everyone else’s? For once, she understood where Ethan had been coming from. She needed to do this for her mother. She needed to do this for . . . everyone.

“We must, mustn’t we?” she asked, but it wasn’t really a question. This wasn’t a matter of fate anymore.

“Everyone has a choice,” he said gravely. “You still believe that, do you not?”

“I do,” she said. “And this one is mine.”

Breathing in a focused breath, she turned away and walked toward the trail into the woods. She couldn’t very well go back to Lady Karina’s estate now. She couldn’t turn away from what had been done to her mother. Maybe her father had been right. She could be more than a servant.

Ethan’s heavy boots crunched the branches along the trail behind her. Moonlight pierced through the winter-bare canopy above. The patchy night sky provided just enough light for Ophelia to make her way along the path, but she knew from her mother’s stories that the light of the moon was as bright as the sun to Ethan. Neither said another word until they reached a break in the path.

“Her camp is on the other side of the clearing,” Ethan said.

“She’s turned anyone before?”

Ethan’s expression darkened. “No.”

Ophelia gave a resolute nod. “Well, that certainly is good to know. What do we do now?”

“Stay behind me. It’s best I approach her first.”

The bushes rustled behind them, and Ophelia spun around. A petite girl, not much older than sixteen, stood on the path only a couple of feet away. Her oil-black hair tumbled around her shoulders. Moonlight glinted off the dark locks that framed her face. Her pale skin did not have the healthy glow of a well-fed Cruor. Instead, it was more alabaster white, pasty and nearly translucent. Only her cornflower blue eyes held any sign of life.

She snapped out her fangs and hissed, crouching down.

Ophelia gasped and stepped back, Ethan taking a protective stance in front of her. 

“Sara?” he asked, edging Ophelia further away.

In a blur of movement, the girl was standing inches from him, her face level with his chest, but her gaze locked on his eyes. “Don’t. Call. Me. Sara.”

He retreated another step, nearly tripping over Ophelia. Her elbow grazed a tree behind her, and she grabbed Ethan’s shoulder to catch her balance.

In another flash of movement, Ophelia found herself pinned to the ground in the clearing. Damn to hell the inhuman speed of the Cruor. The Cruor-girl held Ophelia’s wrists against the ground so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh. A bead of sweat rolled from her hair-line, cool against the heat of the serpent’s mark. Ophelia pushed, but the girl didn’t budge. She tried to twist away, but the girl’s surprising weight kept Ophelia in place.

Ethan broke through the trees into the clearing. He scanned the area until his gaze landed on Ophelia with fear and realization. “Sara, wait!”

The Cruor screamed, snapping her attention to Ethan.

Ophelia took the moment of distraction to shove her arms forward with all her might. The girl tumbled off of her, and Ethan pounced on her before she could rise, pinning her to the ground just as she had held Ophelia in place. 

“We’re here to give you something,” he said.

Their figures blurred, and then the Cruor had the upper hand once more. She sat straddled over Ethan, her tiny hand wrapped around his neck. Her fingernails dug deep, sinking into his skin.

Ophelia stepped forward. “Leave ‘im alone.”

“You came to
my
home,” the girl said. “You do not tell
me
what to do.”

“The man ye are about to kill can give ye the ability to walk in the sun.”

“Impossible.”

Ethan struggled under her grasp. 

“Possible,” he croaked. 

“Lenore,” the Cruor said. “My name is Lenore now.” She released her grasp on Ethan’s neck, and replaced the space on his throat with her boot. “Tell me why you are here.”

Ophelia strode over. “Ye want to walk in the sun, it is ‘is blood and magic ye need.”

Lenore smirked, and swung her gaze toward Ophelia. “If I want his blood, I can just take it.”

“It won’t do ye any good if ‘e doesn’t give it to ye willingly,” Ophelia said, remembering her mother’s stories of the magic of the Ankou.

Lenore narrowed her eyes. “And why would he want to do that?”

“‘e doesn’t, I’ll tell ye that. We need a bit of ‘elp ourselves.”

“You want to trade with one of the Cruor?” Lenore quirked one eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“If you are willing to trade with one of the Ankou,” Ethan said. 

The moon glinted in his eyes, and Ophelia, coming undone by her stress, hid her smile with her hand. The Ankou, her mother had always said, could be a bit mischievous.

Lenore stood and allowed Ethan up from the ground. “I will keep the girl until your magic is proven.”

Ethan glared at her. “No.”

“No?” Lenore asked. “Then I will take both your lives now.”

“And you will have gained nothing for it.”

“I smell your desperation.” Lenore sneered. “You need me more than I need you.”

“Then stay with us,” he offered. “You will have the protection of our home from the sun and easy accessibility to us if we are not true to our word.”

“What do you want?”

“We need you to turn Ophelia.”

Lenore laughed. She turned away, tilted her head toward the night sky, and laughed again. She flopped down into the grass, her laughter continuing to roll through her until blood dotted the corners of her eyes. “You couldn’t possible mean this!”

The whole ordeal was unsettling.

Lenore inhaled deeply and sharpened her gaze on Ophelia.

“Sit,” she said. “Tell me what brings you here. I love a good story.”

They did, and soon an agreement was made. They would execute a ritual to transfer some of the Ankou’s magic to Lenore. She would stay with them until morning, and if their promise held good, she would turn Ophelia.

Having returned to Damascus, 1808

After returning to Ethan’s cabin, Lenore ventured into the nearby village and lured a man back to their secluded field. Ophelia watched in horror as the Cruor-girl drained the poor man of his life.

Ethan eased her away from the curtain and guided her over to the fire. He tried to talk to her, but the agonized face of the dying young man burned into Ophelia’s memory as she stared at the flames.

Shortly thereafter, Lenore strolled in with blood staining her mouth, cheeks, and chin.

“‘ow could ye?” Ophelia demanded.

 “What?” Lenore asked. Her eyes were brighter now, her skin no longer translucent but instead the smooth pallor of porcelain. “A girl’s got to eat.”

***

One of the final herbs needed to perform the sunlight magic grew in a large stretch of forest in Denmark, and because Ophelia didn’t trust Lenore, she joined Ethan when he ventured out to collect the ingredient. 

They paused just outside a wooded area. Ethan lifted a finger to his lips, and Ophelia stood unmoving until his shoulders relaxed and he waved for her to follow.

“I want to show you something while we’re here,” he said, leading her through the thicket onto what was not quite a path.

When she hesitated, he stopped, reached back, and took her hand. There was security to be found there, with his strong hand wrapped around hers, his palm warm against her own, but still Ophelia’s heart throbbed with anxiety.

“We are safe,” he whispered. “There is something you must see.”

Ethan crouched on the path and gently tugged Ophelia to his side. Peering through the breaks in the leaves of the underbrush, Ophelia spotted a small campfire and a tent. Two men—if they could be called such—sat by the fire. Both of them had graying skin and enlarged skulls. When the first man spoke to the other, his lips pulled back to reveal a mouth full of jagged, pointed teeth.

Ethan slapped his hand to her mouth to cover her gasp. He shook his head, his deep brown eyes wide with warning. One of the . . . 
things
 . . . looked up from the flames and in their direction. She squeezed Ethan’s hand and pressed her lips together in fear she would vomit.

Ethan encircled her with his strong arms, the last herb they’d set out to gather clutched in his right hand, and then they fell into the darkness once more, traveling through space with the images of those men and a thousand questions still rampaging through Ophelia’s mind.

When Ophelia could see again, they were in front of their very normal cabin, her heart still pounding in her chest. Ethan’s arms held her tighter.

“I apologize,” he whispered.

“What—” Ophelia nearly choked on the word. “What were they?”

“Ankou,” he said quietly.

“No,” she said, pushing away from him. “They couldn’t be.”

“I told you before what happens when our kind are exposed to too much sunlight. Those men tried to reverse the sun’s effect on them by drinking Strigoi blood.”

“But they look nothing like ye.”

Ethan’s lips pressed in a grim line. “They will never again look like men. They will have to feed on Strigoi blood for the rest of their lives to maintain their current state. To stop now would bring an excruciating death.”