the lies within. Because in that moment, I believed I knew her. Believed I understood.
There was such raw trust on her face as she asked, “Where are we going?”
I pulled away then, gripped the steering wheel. She’d believed my every word. I was about to sucker yet another child onto the Isle of Night. And now she’d asked where I was taking her. How could I lie?
Somehow I felt I owed her some bit of sincerity. I had to find a half-truth that wouldn’t send her screaming from the car. “Far away,” I finally said. “Life as you know it will change utterly.”
And so it was truth enough. I saw the light change in her eyes as she accepted my words, made her decision.
She trusted me. She’d get on the plane with me. And I’d take her to a place of savage cruelty. To her almost-certain death.
My family , I reminded myself. I was doing this to find my family.
This was just a girl. She was nobody to me. She could never be anybody to me.
In fact, prized as she was by the Directorate, she might only pose a danger to me. I’d believed she was different from the other kids, the gangbangers and juvie rejects, but maybe it was more than potential strength that set Annelise apart. Maybe her game was deeper and more sinister than I could fathom. For all I knew, she was playing me right now.
“Far away?” she repeated. “Are we going west?”
It seemed a childish thing to ask. Was the naïveté an act? Rarely did I feel this sort of uncertainty, and it shortened my temper. “No,” I said. “We’re leaving the country. For an island.”
She looked intrigued, as if I’d packed her a weekend bag and was sweeping her away to Hawaii for a quick getaway.
“Not that kind of island,” I said in a voice colder than I’d intended. “It’s far away,” I added, softening my tone. She wasn’t on the plane yet; I could still lose her. “Far north. North of Scotland. North of the Shetlands. It’s a dark place. A cold place.”
She shifted in her seat, hand poised on the door latch. She’d decided. The bait was taken. The open trust on her face floored me.
She wasn’t the one gaming me; it was I who’d betrayed her. Annelise was no schemer. She was just a girl who wanted to escape her pain. Little did she know, I was taking her to a place that’d invented the meaning of the word.
Part of me wished she’d back out. I had the strange sense that, in winning her consent, I’d somehow lost something else. I was just unable to put my finger on what.
“So what’s this island called?” she asked, and the lightness in her tone leached oxygen from the small space. Suddenly it was unbearably hot in that ridiculous sports car.
“Those who speak the old tongue call it Eyja næturinnar, ” I told her. “The Isle of Night.”
The island had two names, as so many things in my world. Fitting, seeing as she used two names as well. She went by Drew, but I refused to call her this. It was the name of the man whose home she’d once lived in, not her own.
From that day on, to me, she would always be Annelise.
CHAPTER THREE
Present day
“Stubborn, human boy,” Freya flings the words at me as though a foul taste needs to be spewed from her body. “You will not return to the Isle of Night. I forbid it.” The resonant hum of her voice ripples across my skin, filling the small cave. She is Vampire. The mere sound of her voice can stop a man’s heart in his chest.
“Listen to the lady,” Carden tells me. He’s gripping my arm, holding me back. He’s Vampire, too, and it makes him stronger than me—a fact I pretend not to hate. He’d been young, brawny, and well made as a human, which means he’s all the fiercer as one of the undead.
I stare down at his hand. I’d come merely to give my report, and now it seems they’re not going to let me leave. “Is this the only reason you’re here, McCloud? You’re an enforcer now?” Technically, Carden and I are allies, both serving Freya as double agents
There was such raw trust on her face as she asked, “Where are we going?”
I pulled away then, gripped the steering wheel. She’d believed my every word. I was about to sucker yet another child onto the Isle of Night. And now she’d asked where I was taking her. How could I lie?
Somehow I felt I owed her some bit of sincerity. I had to find a half-truth that wouldn’t send her screaming from the car. “Far away,” I finally said. “Life as you know it will change utterly.”
And so it was truth enough. I saw the light change in her eyes as she accepted my words, made her decision.
She trusted me. She’d get on the plane with me. And I’d take her to a place of savage cruelty. To her almost-certain death.
My family , I reminded myself. I was doing this to find my family.
This was just a girl. She was nobody to me. She could never be anybody to me.
In fact, prized as she was by the Directorate, she might only pose a danger to me. I’d believed she was different from the other kids, the gangbangers and juvie rejects, but maybe it was more than potential strength that set Annelise apart. Maybe her game was deeper and more sinister than I could fathom. For all I knew, she was playing me right now.
“Far away?” she repeated. “Are we going west?”
It seemed a childish thing to ask. Was the naïveté an act? Rarely did I feel this sort of uncertainty, and it shortened my temper. “No,” I said. “We’re leaving the country. For an island.”
She looked intrigued, as if I’d packed her a weekend bag and was sweeping her away to Hawaii for a quick getaway.
“Not that kind of island,” I said in a voice colder than I’d intended. “It’s far away,” I added, softening my tone. She wasn’t on the plane yet; I could still lose her. “Far north. North of Scotland. North of the Shetlands. It’s a dark place. A cold place.”
She shifted in her seat, hand poised on the door latch. She’d decided. The bait was taken. The open trust on her face floored me.
She wasn’t the one gaming me; it was I who’d betrayed her. Annelise was no schemer. She was just a girl who wanted to escape her pain. Little did she know, I was taking her to a place that’d invented the meaning of the word.
Part of me wished she’d back out. I had the strange sense that, in winning her consent, I’d somehow lost something else. I was just unable to put my finger on what.
“So what’s this island called?” she asked, and the lightness in her tone leached oxygen from the small space. Suddenly it was unbearably hot in that ridiculous sports car.
“Those who speak the old tongue call it Eyja næturinnar, ” I told her. “The Isle of Night.”
The island had two names, as so many things in my world. Fitting, seeing as she used two names as well. She went by Drew, but I refused to call her this. It was the name of the man whose home she’d once lived in, not her own.
From that day on, to me, she would always be Annelise.
CHAPTER THREE
Present day
“Stubborn, human boy,” Freya flings the words at me as though a foul taste needs to be spewed from her body. “You will not return to the Isle of Night. I forbid it.” The resonant hum of her voice ripples across my skin, filling the small cave. She is Vampire. The mere sound of her voice can stop a man’s heart in his chest.
“Listen to the lady,” Carden tells me. He’s gripping my arm, holding me back. He’s Vampire, too, and it makes him stronger than me—a fact I pretend not to hate. He’d been young, brawny, and well made as a human, which means he’s all the fiercer as one of the undead.
I stare down at his hand. I’d come merely to give my report, and now it seems they’re not going to let me leave. “Is this the only reason you’re here, McCloud? You’re an enforcer now?” Technically, Carden and I are allies, both serving Freya as double agents
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