“How?” I croak.
Donna points to the wild berry smoothie sitting above my plate of cheese omelet and bacon. “The smoothies I make for you daily are a concoction of herbs that dull your scent. It’s harder for them to feel your power.” Reflexively, I reach over a take a large laborious swallow. I place the glass down with a shaky hand.
“So the smoothies keep whoever is out there from finding me but innocent girls will continue to die?” This doesn’t sit well with me at all. Dozens of women will be killed just so I can be saved? For what? How is my life any more important than theirs?
“It’s more complicated than that, sweetie. If we could, of course, we would do something. But it’s impossible to force complete strangers to ingest anything without telling them why and risk exposure. We would be slaughtered on the spot for that.” Donna pauses to let her words sink in so I understand the severity of the situation. They were sworn to secrecy to protect all of our lives. “Even if we did tell someone, no one would ever believe us. Our job is to protect you and that’s what we’re doing.”
I shake my head, trying to conjure my senses. This is all ludicrous. How can any of this be possible?
“Why are they being stabbed around the throat?” I ask, trying to bring some logic to the conversation.
“To make it appear to be a vampire attack,” Chris replies.
Oh, hell no! “Wait a minute!” I yelp incredulously. “Did you just say…? Vampires are real? You have got to be kidding me!” I don’t know whether to be frightened or hysterical. Or a mixture of both.
“Do you really want to know?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
I mull it over for a beat before shaking my head vehemently. “No, I don’t.” Let’s limit these revelations of the existence of mythical creatures to once a year. “So the Dark have sent someone to kill me. Why?”
“You are the first of your kind,” my dad replies. He resumes eating his eggs as if we are discussing the weather. "No one knows what you’ll become once you ascend. You could have power that surpasses anything they could have ever imagined and annihilate all of them. At least that’s what many of the Light are hoping for, anyway.”
“Ascend? Like get my power? When? And how do they know I’ll even have any? I don’t feel like I do.” I look down at my now cold breakfast and pick up a piece of bacon to nibble. I don’t even taste it. I just have to keep myself busy before I have a nervous breakdown.
“When you turn 21. There is no doubt that you’ll be powerful, considering who your parents were,” says Donna. The reminder of my wicked Warlock bio dad causes a shiver to run down my spine. “However, no one knows what type of magic you’ll have.”
“You mean no one knows if I’ll be good or evil,” I whisper.
“We know you’re anything but evil, sweetie. And you could very well put an end to all of the fighting. Your mother, Natalia, had hoped for that. She wanted there to be peace among the Light and the Dark and wanted you to be that bridge. But it had never been done before. Ever. People fear what they don’t understand.” Donna places her hand over mine in reassurance.
“But does anyone even have a clue what I’ll become? What if I’m some crazed psychopath or something? Can’t I just opt out of this ascension?”
“It doesn’t work that way, honey. You are what you are. And that is a very special, very unique young woman,” says Donna. For someone who has no idea what will happen in another 12 months, she’s oddly optimistic. That’s even if I make it to my 21st birthday being that there’s someone trying to kill me. Oh yeah, that.
“For now, just focus on keeping yourself safe and out of harm’s way,” adds my dad as if he can read my anxiety. “The herbs will work on concealing your identity. Just be smart and no risky behavior, okay, Kiddo?”
“Right,” I reply flatly. Demented Warlock out to kill me. No big deal. They must be pretty damn confident in Donna’s concoction. “I’ve gotta get ready for work.”
I rise and walk over to the trash to scrape my leftover food, and then place my dish into the sink. Once I’ve retreated to my room, I mindlessly get my clothes ready for work, deciding on soft cowl-neck cream sweater, fitted jeans, and brown riding boots. It’s dressier than my usual jeans and t-shirt work attire but I need a pick me up after the news of my potential attacker. I put in some stud earrings and leave my long tresses down in soft waves. I smile at myself in the mirror and think I feel pretty. Not that I think I’m ugly. Just not very glamorous, especially next to Morgan. Morgan! I pick up my cell phone and call her, knowing she’ll be agitated with my brief text last night. Did I even get a chance to send it?