13 

present day 

 Amara stands still but defiant in the characteristically small kitchen of her quaint two-bedroom. I don't know what I should have expected from a multi-family home on Kenner Street, but it isn't having to sit at a wobbly bar table in the corner of a kitchen that is only a hallway's width. Her parents were not blessed with wealth, and even if they were, I imagine that living below their means is a common way to avoid being discovered by other mythical beings. They live paycheck-to-paycheck like everyone else in the area, so they don't stand out more than necessary.

The air is thick with uncertainty as I contemplate my fate. Amara's hard gaze burns holes into my skin, and it's been this way ever since I told her about my suspicions of Theo. I am surer than I have ever been, and yet Amara doubts me. To her, I am the enemy who is trying to deflect blame by pointing fingers, but that can't be farther from the truth. Because the truth is, I am somewhat of a hero by deciding to kill Theo. If he is the mystery killer, then I would be doing New Orleans a favor by getting rid of him, and at the same time it will allow me to focus on what I truly came here for.

But I can't do it alone. Whatever curse Theo's blood had bestowed upon me makes me incredibly wary and cautious. He was harmless before, but now he's capable of things I can't understand. I'm way too wise to go into a confrontation without knowing my enemy completely.

"Theo wouldn't hurt anyone," Amara whispers with clear disbelief, breaking the tense silence.

I know it must be hard to come to terms with the idea of someone you know suddenly becoming this disgusting, evil thing, but it happens, and it happens all the time.

Because no one is ever truly good.

I do what I can to convince her. "You told me that you sensed bad things about him from the start," I say, reminding her of one of the many conversations we had about her powers before she even knew what they were.

"No—" Amara shakes her head profusely and raises a hand to silence me, "—Theo's a dick, yeah, but he's not a fucking murderer! You don't think that I would know something like that?"

I tilt my head to gaze at her, questioningly. It doesn't do us much good to argue about whether Theo is a murderer. The evidence is clear, and I'm rarely ever wrong; the only logical action is to kill him, and I'll gladly take that chance even if I am. "Amara, I tried to drink from him, and he almost killed me. I was sick, and I have never gotten sick in my life. I'm immortal—do you understand what that means? I can't die! And Theo—this guy you think is just a dick—almost killed me."

Her demeanor grows cold and unfriendly as she narrows her scrutinizing gaze and with it comes a slight prickling feeling on my skin. I take a deep breath, preparing for the worst. "Are you even listening to yourself?" she shrieks. "You tried to drink from him. You tried to kill him, and now you expect me to believe that he's the problem here? How are you so sure that he's the killer?"

"He killed the dean," I reiterate for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. I'm not fond of having to repeat myself or letting my words fall on deaf ears. I've had a lifetime full of people who didn't listen to me and ended up getting themselves hurt because of it. If I didn't need Amara, I would have ripped off her head by now.

Still, Amara shakes her head in disbelief and continues to stare at me like I've wronged her when all I've ever done since her existence was protect her.

"I don't believe you," she says softly, and for a second, it hurts. She looks at me in the same way that Paul Mackus does. In the same way that Ann does. Like I am a monster for wanting my miserable endless life to be something more than it is. I realize then that talking to Amara about the way things are will get us nowhere. I have to appeal to her emotions and her ability to feel everything so deeply—one of few things that sets humans apart from vampires.

I let go of a long-held breath and relax my shoulders, letting my guard down and simultaneously showing Amara that I am no threat. "Fine, here's the truth. I knew exactly who you were when I met you. I knew you were a witch that can help me do something that I've been trying to do for a very long time now. I am seven hundred years old and I've fallen in love only a handful of times. My one true love, Joham, died in the 1500s, and he died partly because of me. I turned him into a vampire, and it turned him into something dark and nasty until he wasn't the person who I fell in love with anymore. I want to bring him—the real him—back, and I have reason to believe you can do that."

"Bring him back? You mean, like, from the dead?" Amara questions, dumbfounded. Her deep umber eyes are wide with surprise and her bottom lip hangs open. She doesn't wait for me to respond before she says, "oh my god, that's insane!"

"No," I say defiantly in an attempt to level with her. Humans are so near-sighted, and they often don't like things they don't understand. "I've seen it. I've seen a group of witches do this exact thing and I have dedicated the rest of my life to discovering how, and that's how I found you." Even though I decided to share some of my truth with Amara, I know better than to share too much. The information at hand is already enough for her to process as is. I can't possibly add to her confusion by telling her that her entire existence is my own doing and I don't ever plan on it.

She sighs, seeming less tense than before. "You're not making any sense. You're telling me that you're seven hundred years old and you're still harped on a guy from like three hundred years ago?"

"Time moves differently when you've lived as long as I have. I didn't become this way by choice. This life is very lonely and depressing and down-right isolating. I can't build connections the same way you do. I can't care about people without hurting them, but I cared about Joham and he cared about me. We were engaged to be married."

Amara sighs, but I know she still doesn't fully trust me which I have decided is okay. She doesn't trust me because she shouldn't, but she can help me because she chooses to see the humanity in me that longs for love and belonging. She can relate to the idea of love and marriage since it's something she's wanted for her parents for so long. That empathy is the one thing that makes humans such easy targets.

"Why do you want to bring this guy back?"

"Because—" I start, fully intending on answering her question promptly and with ease, but I find myself stuck. The words that I know are there somehow escape me and I'm left wondering why I had set out on this mission in the first place. Amara is right when she says it's been a long time, but I have not felt the way I felt with Joham with anyone else. The closest person was Ann, but Ann is a vengeful snake whose motives are always too holier-than-thou.What I had with Ann wasn't real—it was an illusion.

I can tell Amara is impatiently awaiting a response, so I say, "I like who I was when I was with him. He didn't make the world feel bleak. He was one of the only humans I've met that really loved life and deserved life. I ruined him and I want to make it right. I don't want you to think that I want him back for just love. Although that is the driving force behind my actions ... I want him back so he can live the life that he was supposed to live without me."

It's the first time I've ever admitted that to myself. For so long, I was hoping that I would be reunited with Joham and get to experience that euphoria again, but there has always been a part of me that knew what that really meant. I loved Joham when he was a human, but I hated him as a vampire. If I want Joham to be the person that I fell in love with again, he will have to be and remain a human. Eventually, he would die, and I would be alone again. I have no doubt that we would fall in love again and Joham would want to make that sacrifice for me, but I will not let him make that mistake again.

As selfish as it may be, Joham's resurrection is an act that will absolve myself of the guilt of killing him.

The air is still for a moment's pause, and I feel the hesitation leaking from her skin. It takes minutes but it feels like hours for her threatening gaze to drop and be replaced with a concerned look. "Okay," she breathes out, completely letting go of her reservations. Suddenly the air doesn't feel as thick, and I take a deep breath.

She trusts me.

"Don't think that you're completely off the hook either," she snaps, "I still have a bunch of questions and you're still a piece of shit friend, but I'm not scared of you. Especially knowing that I can really hurt you if I want to."

I smile. "Sure."

"And since we're being honest now, I should let you know that this isn't the first time this has happened."

I furrow my brow in confusion.

"Well, when I found out that my mom was cheating on my dad ... I cried, really hard. So hard that I thought I was hallucinating when the ceiling started to leak. It was a very odd experience because once I stopped crying, the leak also stopped. There wasn't any evidence of it even happening, either."

Amara props herself against the wall, probably to relieve herself of the emotional weight and she forces as a smile as her eyes wander to the floor. "It happened to Theo, too. We got into an argument one day and a cut on his arm started to bleed uncontrollably and when it was over, it closed back up like nothing happened."

I find myself sympathizing with her in that moment. It was tough trying to navigate being a vampire when I was first created and I had to go through most of it alone. No one could prepare me for the loneliness and isolation I felt. There was no one to talk to, no one to confide in, and no one to help. My mind was consumed with thoughts of ending my life so that I wouldn't have to feel the pain of living to be a monster.

When she lifts her gaze back to mine, her eyes are wet and glossy and it's almost like she can read my mind. "Am I a monster?"

Yes, I want to say because we are. We're anomalies that go against nature and we have way too much power than we can ever know what to do with. But I know that is not what Amara needs to hear now. "No," I say. "You're just a Psych major trying to figure out what to do with her life—just like the rest of the students at SavU."

She smiles—genuine, this time—and she lets go of the breath that she was holding, and her shoulders fall along with it. "Thanks ... so, if I'm going to help you and I assume that what you say about Theo is true ... how did he try to kill you?"

"Well, his blood tasted like shit. Like a disease. Rotten."

"Are you sure it's not just because he's a horrible person?" she scoffs.

"Positive. I've had my fair share of detestable human beings, and their blood doesn't taste any different."

Amara squeezes her eyes shut and grimaces. "Right, blood. Drinking blood is a normal thing that I'm supposed to get used to ... just like me being a witch, ugh." At that revelation, her brown eyes turn unfriendly and accusatory. "Wait—if you drink blood, does that mean you kill people?"

It's a fair question and I'm sure Amara can deduce the answer on her own. I know better than to lie. "I have killed recklessly in the past when I was a new vampire. I'm old enough now to only take what I need from people, never killing them." I purposely leave the information about my roommate's boyfriend out. "In fact, I have set up an agreement with Professor Mackus. He feeds me."

Her brows furrow. "He feeds you what?"

"His blood."

"Oh!" she exclaims. "Oh my god. Are you serious? This whole time I thought you were fucking him, and now you ... well, I guess you are."

I press my lips together firmly, not knowing what to say.

Amara's full brows pull together to resemble a frown and she begins to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. Even though I know she doesn't view me as a threat, I know it can't be easy to uncover the truth like this. I quickly glance back at the time when I, too, was petrified upon learning who Wymond really was. I didn't know what to think because everything I thought I knew was a lie, and I'm sure Amara feels the same.

A moment passes before she says, "Theo didn't do this."

And I groan. "Amara, we don't have time to debate this. How much more proof do you need?"

"I know—just listen, okay! I think I may know why you had that adverse effect to drinking his blood."

I raise an eyebrow, prompting her to continue.

"A little while before we broke up, we were actually doing pretty good. Our relationship was amazing and I felt very protective over him. He was going through a lot with this family and school and everything, so I wanted to help him feel safe. With everything that I was discovering about myself, I thought maybe I could use how I felt about him to protect him since that's what seemed to work when I felt negative emotions about something. I didn't want him to get hurt by me being upset."

I know what she's implying, but it's hard for me to believe that she could be capable of such a thing during the infancy of her powers. "And what? You think that you put a protection spell on him or something?"

She catches her bottom lip with her teeth and shoots me an apologetic look. "I was never able to hurt him again."

Now it's my turn to burn daggers into her with my glare. "Amara, forgive me, but that sounds stupid."

"No, it doesn't! It would explain everything."

"You expect me to believe that you made him immortal?"

"I don't think I made him immortal. Maybe I just made it so he can't be harmed by me..." she states as her tone starts to lower to something more suggestive, "... or something like me."

I stare at her for what feels like a long time, dumbfounded because I don't know what to say. Even though I've made her to be the most powerful witch who ever lived, I still can't believe she could perform such a spell without knowing how. I've learned from dozens of witches through my centuries long journey for this kind of magic and all of them talked about having to learn how to use and harness their powers through grimoires and other books. Magic is practice and the strongest and most powerful of spells can't simply be done by accident.

But she may be right.

As much as I want Theo to be the culprit, I have to consider that he might not be. After all, I don't have any evidence on why he would want to kill the dean or any of the other victims. Even though he looked suspicious in that alley, he did seem to genuinely be spooked by discovering her body. If he was the killer, he would've sensed that I was onto him and tried to kill me. I was too preoccupied with my own reaction to drinking his blood that I didn't take time to notice that he was also freaking out about me trying to kill him.

I had never considered Theo to be a threat until tonight when that seemed like the only plausible answer. If there is a better explanation for what happened, I can't ignore it just because I want him to be the killer so that I won't have to worry about who is.

"Please tell me you didn't seriously hurt him," Amara pleads, forcing my attention back to her.

I shrug. "I don't know. I was kinda busy."

"What if he's hurt?" she asks at the same time I ask myself. I hope that he is because I don't know what to do if he isn't. How can I explain what I tried to do to him without making myself seem like a threat? I can make his memories hazy, but I can only do so if I'm able to drink from him. I haven't been in a sticky situation like this in a long time, and I'm not willing to out my identity for a measly tour guide with nice teeth.

"You need to take away the protection spell," I say.

She frowns and stumbles over her words, "But I-I don't know h-how."

"You need to figure it out," I snap, "or else I will kill him."

At the sound of the sudden change in my tone, Amara's stance becomes more defensive. She's retreated back to the feelings of distrust. While I do want her to trust me, I'll have to figure out how to do it another way because if Theo can't be persuaded, then it puts both of us at risk. I know she's smart enough to know this, but still she says, "I won't let you."

I stand to my feet and challenge her authoritative stare with an even colder one. I say, lowly, "you're not going to stop me," before rushing out of the house on Kenner street and swiftly moving through the darkness to finish what I started. 

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