Falling to Ash
Contents
About the Book
Marie O’Neal used to have a life, a family . . . and a pulse.
But now, everything’s changed. Marie is dead, and in her place newly-made vampire Moth stalks the streets of Boston, struggling to make sense of a world in which she no longer belongs . . .
A thrilling tale of paranormal adventure and forbidden romance from the author of THE IRON WITCH.
For Veej –
my sun and stars.
I have long ago lost my belief in immortality
– also my interest in it
.
Mark Twain
Prologue
He raises his head and she looks into the eyes of a predator
.
So dazzling . . . She almost has to look away from the blaze. They seem to drip silver – like liquid mercury escaping from a broken thermometer
.
But even though she is transfixed by the terrible beauty of his eyes, it’s his teeth that suddenly draw her fascinated gaze. Teeth that have extended inhumanly, the canines sharp and dog-like as he bares them and growls
.
The spell breaks and she has the sense to struggle. She kicks and pushes at him, trying to make an impression on his strength. She bites the hands holding her down, her own teeth blunt and meaningless. Even as she begins to hyperventilate, she knows there is no escape. He’s too strong; his arms feel carved from cool stone. Strange how, even in her
terror
, she can think about how bright he burns – his face, his eyes – and yet his body is cold
.
Somewhere in a very dark place inside her mind she starts laughing hysterically, and she thinks:
I have gone insane. Mad, crazy, like in the movies.
How can she be laughing in her head, but screaming on the outside?
Because she
is
screaming, loud and shrill and hopeless, a bird in the jaws of a cat that’s been stalking it forever. Never getting bored. Endlessly patient
.
Her screams in the face of the impossible are filled with the knowledge of blood – and death
.
Chapter One
I KNEW MY
morning was off to a bad start when I sneaked home from an illicit night out to find two cops waiting at my apartment door.
It didn’t take me long to figure out who they were despite the regular street clothes – I can smell a cop from a mile away. Once a police officer’s daughter, always a police officer’s daughter. For a split second I considered leaving again before they saw me, but it wasn’t like I had anything to hide.
Apart from being a vampire, I mean.
It’s not as though I’d killed anyone. Lately.
No, I’m kidding. I don’t do that – not unless someone makes me really angry.
OK, now I really
am
messing with you. I may be a member of Boston’s underground undead (that nobody is
supposed
to know actually
do
exist, outside of colorful legends and the
Twilight
franchise, of course) but I like to think of myself as one of the good guys.
I took a moment to watch the man and woman as they knocked on the door again. One was white – the woman; the man was black, and actually the shorter of the pair, but I couldn’t tell how old they were from here. My eyes are good, but even I can’t see through the back of people’s heads. Though now that I think about it, X-ray vision would be pretty cool.
The woman turned and I tried to look like I hadn’t been hesitating.
Nothing to see here, Officer, just your average teen vampire. Totally harmless
.
‘Hey,’ I said, as I walked toward them. I flashed them a fangless smile (I might be inexperienced but I’m well-trained in this) and produced the door key by removing one of my chunky knee-high boots and shaking it upside-down.
Thanking God that I was still wearing my contacts to hide my vamp eyes, I grabbed the key off the floor, replaced my boot and tugged down the short skirt of my black dress. ‘You want to come in?’
I set about making coffee, turning my back to the detectives and measuring grounds, taking my time, adding water and trying to remember if there was anything vampire-y in the kitchen that would give me away.
The
clock on the microwave told me it was 7:55 a.m.
Noticing that made me think guilty thoughts about the microwave. That’s where Holly and I heat up the blood we drink when we can’t stomach it cold from the bag.
Pushing that thought hastily away, I swung around to face my unwelcome guests.
Detectives Alison Trent and Denmark Smith had introduced themselves and showed their ID before following me inside Holly’s North End apartment where Theo had put me six months ago. They seemed surprised that I could afford to live in such a nice place, but I wasn’t going to tell them about all the interesting ways that the vampire Family of Boston finances their affairs. Not that I know much about it myself, only what Theo or Holly see fit to share. In the year since my life changed forever, I’d been told very little. So little that I was reduced to sneaking in and out of the apartment while my roommate was at work or out socializing, and picking up scraps of information where I could.
Trent was probably in her late thirties and had shoulder-length blonde hair tied back in an untidy pony-tail, with lots of scruffy strands hanging loose. Her face was make-up-free and her blue denim jacket looked well worn, kind of like the rest of her clothes. She smelled of cigarette smoke and mints, and her wrinkled pants and fitted sweater were plain black. She also looked vaguely familiar in that really annoying way that sort of itches at
the
back of your mind. Maybe my dad knew her and I’d seen her at some kind of police social event, back before he’d been quietly retired off the force.
Detective Trent’s intelligent blue eyes took in everything around her, cataloging and filing it all away for later examination. She seemed intense and direct. Way to make a girl feel nervous.
Denmark Smith on the other hand, the younger of the pair, was everything that his partner wasn’t – at least in the sartorial stakes (no pun intended). He was dressed in a beautifully cut charcoal-gray suit, and his shoes were shiny enough that you could see your face in them. If you actually
had
a reflection. His black hair was close-cropped and perfectly sculpted and even his fingernails were neat and tidy. He was obviously handsome, but a little
too
handsome for me. I wondered that he even had time to solve crimes, what with all the personal grooming he must do.
I turned back to the counter and pulled down the only two clean mugs I could find. They were large and decorated with comic-book characters; one was Wolverine and the other Batgirl. I poured the freshly brewed coffee from Holly’s secret stash and shrugged as I offered Batgirl to Detective Trent.
Smith raised his eyebrows, but accepted Wolverine without a word.
Trent stirred sugar into her coffee and watched me. ‘You live here alone?’
‘I have a roommate.’
‘She wasn’t out dancing with you?’
Dancing?
I smirked, but let the old-fashioned term slide without my usual snarky commentary. ‘No, she works nights.’
Of course she works nights. She works nights, parties nights, sleeps days. She’s a vampire.
Smith took a sip from his mug. ‘What does your roommate do?’
Drinks blood!
‘She’s a motorcycle courier.’
‘And you? Work? School?’
I blinked at him, feeling stupid. I hadn’t even thought about how I’d answer a question like that. Theo had me so sheltered that I never even thought I’d have to worry about it. What
did
I do? Good question, Detective.
The cops exchanged suspicious looks.
Say something. Anything!
‘School,’ I blurted.
Trent tapped short fingernails against the side of her mug. ‘Which one?’
‘U/Mass. I’m an art major.’ That much had been true a year ago, at least.
She nodded, holding my gaze. ‘Records show you dropped out last year – just after the course started, in fact.’
Crap
. I scrambled to cover the lie. ‘I didn’t actually drop out. Not officially.’
‘Marie, you haven’t attended any of your classes for months. It’s November now, but you haven’t even gotten started this year.’
‘Just don’t tell my dad,’ I muttered.
Smith quirked a smile. ‘He doesn’t know?’
What? That I got turned into a monster? That just as Theo had told me, I hadn’t been able to go to school because every time I did try I got overwhelmed by the smell of humanity – all that hot blood pumping through veins, just begging to be—
I realized that the detectives were looking at me strangely.
Please don’t say I said any of that out loud
. I swallowed, wishing I’d made myself a drink. Of
coffee
, I mean.
This was why Theo, my Maker, insisted I should stay tucked away; at least until I learned to control it: the bloodlust.
‘Marie?’ Trent leaned forward. She seemed genuinely concerned.
‘I had some problems, OK? I’m going back. Maybe next year.’
She nodded, but didn’t look convinced. They clearly had me pegged as a slacker. I hated that, but what could I do to change their opinion? All they saw was a young adult who’d dropped out of college, didn’t appear to have a job, and was most likely living off her roommate and family hand-outs. What did they care about my dreams?
I’d
always wanted to put my artistic talents toward a career drawing superhero comics. Dreams die, though.