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I cast their helmets aside, next to their bodies. The first was fair-haired. His expression was calm, as if sleep had claimed him rather than me. My lungs drew in a deep breath—not out of caution, but for the mother who would learn her son was gone. His death would spare a king. That was justification enough.
I was grateful the blond was on his stomach; I couldn’t bear witnessing his face.
Then I drove the dagger into the thick base of his neck, the blade easily slid through the flesh, slicing clean through skin and muscle. My grip clenched a fistful of his golden locks and gave a final pull dislodging it from his body.
The second was no different. Quick. Clean. Necessary.
Standing, I grabbed a torch from a pillar at the entrance and dropped the flames onto their bodies. Utterly repulsive. When our kind burns, the oils release a suffocating sweetness—dark red smoke curling upward, thick with vanilla, fatally candied.
I washed the crimson from the blade in the bay and took one last moment to look over my shoulder. If there had been an afterlife, I hoped those two had made it. I chased the thought away before retrieving the prince.
And with a whisper, I vowed, “I will protect you, whatever the cost, young one.”
We pressed forward. My body submerged as the unnatural current thrived around my limbs, dragging us deeper into its depths. Before the water reached my chest, I lifted the infant high above my head, supporting his small frame.
As we drifted toward the lake’s center, violent winds roared again, splashing water across my face. Beneath me a cyclone gripped my body spinning us with unnatural force. It threatened to tear him from my grasp. The violent jolts finally frightened the silent infant; his cry pierced the night like a warning meant for the realm. A blinding white light erupted beneath the current, and in a blink, the world tore open. We vanished.
Running was the most exhilarating part of any of my journeys; the wind brushing against my long black hair sent pleasant chills down my spine. It was less than an hour until I found myself along a sleepy mountain highway.
The billboard that greeted the city read, “Welcome to Ash Town.” My feet guided me along the highway, searching for signs of the human town. If I had to leave the prince here, he deserved a chance at being loved. I wouldn’t know until I laid my eyes on them whether they were suitable. It wasn’t long until I found myself scoping out the region’s surroundings; it was nice enough, but mundane. Mundane was all he would need for now, something stable.
The edge-of-town neighborhoods were charming in a way my world had never known. Simple people. Quiet streets. But lights glowed in windows—evidence of warm, waking lives. I passed by each home, peering through them. Every human face I encountered through them didn’t feel safe enough; I was casting prejudgments, but I wanted to make sure I chose correctly.
Deep within the city, I found more signs of people awake at this late hour. A small plaza cradled a picture-perfect coffee shop. Sitting inside the shop next to the window was a couple laughing with one another. A few teenagers lingered near the counter, but my focus settled on that couple.
The way the woman’s smile pierced through her sadness pulled my interest; maybe it was her humanity behind it. Her fingers hesitantly reached out to trace his, and with that small gesture, his eyes brimmed and spilled over. Their grief was written across their faces like a signal in wartime.
For reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt a pull of sorrow for their quiet, lonesome sadness. I crept closer, peering behind a bush so I could hear them clearly.
"It was all my fault he died," the man sobbed into his hands. He folded into himself, uncaring of the eyes that might have been watching. His loose brown hair fell over his face, as another sober cry bellowed from his lips. Even through the gloom, his voice held warmth. He was kind, I could hear it.
“Mark, I don’t blame you. We’ll have another one, someday," she said gently. A wave of anger simmered beneath her calm, but I could see the restraint in her eyes would not let it rise.
“Stop being so damn nice, Martha." He whispered flatly, as he yanked his hand away. “You don’t get to make me feel alright about this; it’ll never be right.”
I inhaled slowly, coolly, at the weight of his words. He was fighting a losing battle with himself, but she had been so steady. So right in how she handled him. Even though they were not polished, they had love. And that is all this child would need. I peered down at Alexander before hiding him back into my cloak. Taking one deep I strode into the shop. The scent of coffee and sugar hit me like a memory I'd never lived alongside the familiar nutty warmth of crimson. I couldn’t distinguish these individuals like my own they bleed together like pot of fine broth.
Approaching their table, I offered the warmest smile I could manage. Both peered up at me, distress glittering in their eyes, as they took me in. In a low, calming voice, I managed, “Mark. Martha. Step outside with me. Don’t question it.”
They exchanged a nervous glance and rose slowly, naturally frightened. It was understandable, I suppose, it had been so long since I had been in this realm, I had forgotten how unearthly I must have seemed. The couple walked in front of me as I held the door open.
“What is this about, sir?” Mark finally asked once they were alone. He pulled his wife behind him, hiding her away from my sight.
“I mean you no harm,” I said, drawing the infant from beneath my cloak, cradling him in full view. Moonlight bathed Alexander’s features, as he smiled up at the pair.
Startled, their gazes locked on to mine, before they both cautiously stepped forward to see the child. Without words their eyes found one another, as if holding a silent conversation between them. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but Martha’s voice broke first, a whisper wrapped in doubt: “You want us to take him?”
“Yes,” I said, placing him gently into her arms. “But only for eighteen years. When his nineteenth year comes, I will return. Be ready.” They didn’t need answers. Only preparation.
“Take care of Alexander,” I whispered into her ear—then, before they could speak or deny me, I vanished into the night at inhuman speed. From that night on, I never looked back.
TAINTED | CHAPTER 1
The new girl
18 years and 359 days later
The sun bristled against my skin as I leaned against my car. My baby, really. She wasn’t much to look at, a 2006 blue, paint-chipped Nissan Altima I lovingly called Tammy. She’d seen too many nights out this semester, carting me between school, work, my dorm, and then back to my mom’s. Sometimes I wasn’t sure how I even squeezed football practice into the mess of it.
