Charlotte Sanguinite POV:
I managed to get a few hours of sleep tonight, but the dreams woke me up.
It's four in the morning when I realize I'm drenched in sweat.
Shakily, I get up to drink some water. My left eye is the size of a baseball, so I call in sick and take the day off from the café.
I've been having these dreams for so long that I've lost track. The cold water does nothing to settle me.
It's always the same type of dream: a man with a face I can't see clearly, holding my hand, walking through a forest, my heart brimming with love and confidence. I can't call these dreams nightmares. It's more that they show me a kind of love I will never have in this life.
And it breaks my heart.
I often wake up, my eyes wet, my heart aching so desperately for something I crave with my whole being but cannot have.
I take my glass out into the living room and sit down heavily on the couch. It's still dark out, and even though I'm tired, I don't want to sleep. I know I'll have that same dream.
I hate it.
Slumping back on the cushions, I put my feet up on the coffee table and stared at the ceiling. The room is dark, but it doesn't bother me. The darkness is soothing.
I always knew love would never be on my cards.
I can't be a vampire because I'm too weak. Vampires are an ambitious sort. They like power and strength.
Wolves are absolutely not even an option. That's not something that can happen. Wolves have their mates, and they despise vampires. The events from last night are a good example. Harry, Robert's friend, went after me simply because I was a vampire. And besides, wolves and vampires don't mix. Never have. I guess it's taboo.
I sigh wearily.
I've tried dating humans, but I've never managed to hold on to any relationship, long-term, due to the fear of giving away what I am. The rules of revealing the world of Others to humans are very strict. Breaking them can result in immediate execution. I know there must be plenty of humans aware of our existence, but I've never met any. And I can't risk getting found out.
That's why these dreams haunt me. It's like I'm constantly being taunted by what I can never have, constantly being shown what it feels like to be cherished, only to wake up and realize none of it is true.
In the silence of my home, I let my tears fall.
Loneliness is a hard, bitter existence.
I try to keep my days full. I have set goals in my life. I have savings. I have Mano, my one-eyed cat. But none of it fills the gaping hole inside me.
I just want to be loved. I just want to be wanted.
There are times I wonder whether I would have felt differently if my own family had not rejected me so harshly. But the game of "what if" is a dangerous one, and I try not to focus on it.
A grumpy meow reaches my ears just as a soft body jumps onto my shoulder before dropping into my lap.
Mano is a six-year-old tabby that I rescued as a kitten. She stretches on my thighs before collapsing and purring heavily.
I ran my fingers through her fur, smiling slightly now. "I'm not feeding you again. You're growing chubby."
She gives me a pitiful look before purring even louder.
I could feel my fingers itching to give her some wet food, but Ricky gave me strict instructions at her last check-up.
"Sorry, sweetie," I say, petting her. "You need to lose a few pounds."
Her purring stops, and she gives me a betrayed look.
"Come on, now." I kissed the top of her head. We'll start going on walks. I'll even cook you some low-fat treats. How about mincemeat?"
Mano turns her head away from me, clearly sulking.
"Don't be a baby," I chuckle. "Let's just try to sleep."
I curl up on the couch, Mano under my arm, and close my eyes. Sleep does come, but my brain is a flurry of activity, and when I wake up in a couple of hours, I'm more tired than before.
Mano is sprawled over my stomach, snoring, as I stretch.
"Come on, kitty." I nudged her awake. "I'm going to take a shower, and we're going to go out for breakfast today."
After a quick shower, I put Mano in my bike's basket and set off for a local, pet-friendly café. But if I thought an outing would relax me, I'm proven wrong. There's a budding tension within me.
For years, I've tried to leave my past in my past. Seeing Droga again brought everything back, though. It reminded me of how weak I was and still am. I've tried to build a life outside my species, and to some extent I've succeeded, but now, I feel like the same scared girl who was thrown out of her home in the middle of the night. Because at the end of the day, if my father learns I had anything to do with those two dead vampires, he won't stop at just killing me. First, he'll hurt everyone I hold dear.
I know him.
Beruth Sanguinite is a sadist. Both my siblings inherited that cruel streak of his. I never mourned my brother's death; I felt relieved. One less monster in this world.
Clyde used to enjoy luring human girls into the woods around our compound, where he and his friends would each have a go at her, drinking her blood till there was no more ecstasy for her, just pain. The bite of a vampire is like a potent drug. In certain parts of Europe, there are human farms where humans willingly live with vampires.
Over here, human farms are not a thing. We're not allowed to drink from humans at all. But it's not a hard-and-fast rule; it only becomes a problem if the human becomes aware of what is happening. Most of the time, vampires drink during sex, as the human reaches his or her climax. In Europe, humans are treated better than they are here. Clyde and his friends would not let their victims enjoy the experience or even hide what they were from their victims.
They tormented the girls and drank by tearing their flesh, not letting them experience the euphoria that might have numbed some of their senses. I never knew what happened to Clyde's victims, aside from the fact that they were left there in the woods by the scavengers.
When my father discovered what was happening, he didn't say a word to Clyde. All he did was tell his most trusted man, the second-in-command of our clan, Seth Morgan, to make sure the boys covered their tracks.
My thoughts are dark as I bite into my bagel, sunglasses hiding the bruise in my eye. The waiter still gives me an odd look. Mano has effectively tangled her leash around my legs and is now lying on the table, sunbathing. She has a satisfied grin on her face, probably because I caved and fed her the salmon from my bagel.
I check my watch before finishing my breakfast. "Alright. Wake up, Mano. Let's go."
My cat stretches and turns onto her back, eyeing me with her one good eye.
I push her off the table, and she lands on her feet. Tail in the air, she gave me an arrogant look as I grabbed the bag of extra items I ordered to go.
We set off in the direction of the park.
It's a lovely day, so there are plenty of children around. I see a lone woman sitting on a bench in front of the trees that lead into the woods, her raven black hair tied in a long braid, her eyes a surprisingly tawny shade. She looks across the park at me, and her smile is slow and mysterious. I made my way over to her.
"Angie, I thought I might find you here."
"You have blood on your hands," she says calmly, and my heart stutters before I take a deep breath and hand her the paper bag.
"Here. For you."
She peeks into the bag and then sets it aside. I know she'll eat a little of the food; the rest she'll give to her faithful crows.
Mano climbs onto Angie's lap and settles down.
"Your fate has changed."
I blinked slowly. "Really?"
"You made a choice, and that has affected your future."
I swallowed, my mouth feeling dry.
Angie is one of the few gypsy seers left. I met her when I was fourteen and all alone; she brought me to the women's shelter I ended up staying at. I'd never heard of a Seer till I met her. She was pleased to find me, for some reason, and was incredibly kind to me. It was a kindness that I never forgot.
"Peeking into the future again, Angie?" I remark, keeping my voice light. "You know what will happen if you do."
Seers have the ability to look into the future. At least, that's what Angie has told me. But doing it drains their lifespan.
Angie usually deals with tarot cards. She finds them easier to help interpret the future.
"I didn't peek," Angie says as she strokes Mano. I kept thinking of you last night, so I opened my cards and did a reading. Your future is unclear now. You made a decision."
"I saved a wolf, Alpha." I glanced at her. "I considered minding my own business but he—I didn't feel right about letting him die."
"I see." Angie plays with my cat's tail. "It changed everything."
"What does that mean?"
She looks up at me now, her gaze serious. "The cards make no sense to me."
She digs into her pocket and brings out three cards, revealing them to me.
I stared at them before looking at her. "These aren't your usual cards."
"They're not," Angie agrees. "They're special ones. They've been passed down from mother to daughter in my family. I had the urge to use them last night."
When I turn my attention back to the cards, my stomach turns.
"A scythe, a grave, and the unknown," Angie murmurs.
My voice shakes as I ask, "Am I going to die?"
A small, surprised laugh escapes her lips. "No. When I took out these cards, I saw a woman with her face in a flowing, emerald dress."
She touches the card with the grave on it. "This is what I drew when I saw it. Then I saw a river of blood flowing along the streets of Portland. The Death Card. Finally, I saw you standing in the middle of the sea, and I drew the Question Mark Card. It indicates the unknown, that your future is uncertain."
It's hard not to panic right now. "None of this sounds good, Angie."
"Perhaps." She studies the cards again before packing them away, her voice hard. "But there is something I know for sure."
"What?" I ask warily.
When she meets my gaze, her eyes are worried. "Something is brewing in Portland, Charlotte, and you're soon going to be in the center of the storm."