CHAPTER 9
NOW

I PULL MYSELF from my memories. I curse the fool I was to think I could save my damned soul with silly protests.

Aubrey’s servant has run from my home, and I sense him leaving my town. He fears for his life, with good reason. Had he stayed I would have killed him. He knows I would, and he knows I can smell his fear.

I may have been changed against my will, but I do not fight what I am anymore. There is no greater freedom than feeling the night air against your face as you run through the forest, no greater joy than the hunt. The taste of your prey’s fear, the sound of its heart beating strong and fast, the smells of the night.

I stand in this small town, so near to the dead and almost as near to the faithful in the church across the street, feeling the fear of the human running from my home. For that is what I am — a hunter. I learned long ago that I could not deny that fact.

Every instinct tells me to hunt this running, frightened creature. I am a vampire, after all. But I am not an animal, and I was once a human. That is what makes my kind dangerous: a hunter’s instincts and a human’s mind. Humanity’s cruel way of toying with the world, laced with the savage, unthinking hunt of the wild animal.

But I do have control, and I will let this human live to tell his news to Aubrey, whom he fears even more than he fears me. He is the bearer of bad news, and Aubrey does not like bad news.

I refuse to allow Aubrey to rule me, but only because it is the way of my kind. I fear Aubrey as much as this human does, perhaps more, for I know exactly what Aubrey is and what he is capable of.

I am restless. Despite the rising sun, I am in the mood to do something.

After making a quick check to make sure there is no blood on me from the previous night’s hunt, I leave my house. I walk, partly because I am not leaving Concord and thus not going far, but mostly because I have a craving to move.

Occasionally I visit cafés like Ambrosia, which cater to my kind. But more often I become a shadow of the human world. Human lives, which seem so complex to those who are living them, seem simple from the perspective of three hundred years.

The coffee shop has just opened when I slip through the door.

The girl who works there is human, of course. Her name is Alexis, and she has worked there for most of the summer.

“Morning, Elizabeth,” she greets me, and I smile in return. I often visit this place in the morning. Of course, I did not give Alexis my real name. I do not allow myself to grow close to humans. They have a tendency to notice that I never age.

I buy coffee, not because I want the caffeine or even like the taste, but because people will stare at someone who is sitting in a coffee shop without anything to drink.

A few minutes later the prework traffic begins. For about half an hour the shop bustles, and I sit in the corner silently and watch people.

Though I have worked to distance myself from human society, I enjoy watching humans as they go about their business.

The principal of the nearby school hurries in, already late for work, dressed in a somber suit that makes her look even more tired than she is. A minute later a middle-aged man opens the door, stopping in during his morning jog. Two women, sipping their coffee at one of the small tables, get into a quiet argument over an article one read in the newspaper. A teenage girl meets her boyfriend and then is horrified as her father walks into the coffee shop.

I smile silently, watching the various dramas, which will probably be forgotten by evening.

Business slows as the customers depart, many complaining about their destination.

Humans are often this way. They go about their lives, constantly working, complaining of boredom one minute and overwork the next. They pause only to observe the niceties of society, greeting each other with “Good morning” while their minds are somewhere else completely.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had been born into this modern time. Sin and evil no longer seem as important as they did three hundred years ago. Would I have been as horrified at what I have become, I wonder, if I had not been raised in the church, with the ever-present threat of damnation?

The two women in the corner who have been arguing about politics now stand and depart together, laughing. I watch them with an ounce of jealousy, knowing their worries are far away and that despite everything they know, they are still innocent.

Innocence … I remember when the last of my innocence died.

The Den of Shadows Quartet
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_cvi_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_adc_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_tp_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_toc_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_p01_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_col1_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_col2_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_fm1_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c01_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c02_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c03_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c04_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c05_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c06_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c07_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c08_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c09_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c10_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c11_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c12_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c13_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c14_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c15_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c16_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c17_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c18_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c19_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c20_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c21_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_p02_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_col3_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_col4_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_fm2_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c22_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c23_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c24_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c25_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c26_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c27_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c28_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c29_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c30_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c31_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c32_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c33_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c34_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c35_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c36_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c37_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c38_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c39_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c40_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c41_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c42_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c43_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c44_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c45_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c46_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c47_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c48_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c49_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c50_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c51_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c52_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c53_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c54_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_p03_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_col5_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_fm3_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c55_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c56_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c57_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c58_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c59_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c60_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c61_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c62_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c63_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c64_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c65_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c66_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c67_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c68_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c69_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c70_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c71_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c72_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c73_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c74_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c75_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c76_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c77_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c78_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c79_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c80_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c81_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c82_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c83_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c84_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c85_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_p04_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_col6_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_col7_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c86_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c87_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c88_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c89_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c90_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c91_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c92_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c93_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c94_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c95_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c96_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c97_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c98_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c99_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c100_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c101_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c102_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c103_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c104_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c105_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c106_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c107_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_c108_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_bm1_r1.htm
Atwa_9780375896767_epub_cop_r1.htm