CHAPTER 22
HASANA HAD INSISTED that Jessica go home with them, instead of staying with the police and the medical units. No matter what her personal feelings toward Jessica, Hasana was still a mother, and Jessica could see the motherly care in everything she did.
Jessica refused at first to go anywhere with the Smoke family but she gave in when Hasana had Caryn go fetch her belongings — including her computer. At least they understood that she wouldn’t go anywhere without a way to write.
Her anger over Anne’s death had been replaced by a dismal apathy so overpowering that when she was confronted, the moment she stepped through the Rashidas’ door, by Dominique Vida, she didn’t even bother to make a biting response.
Dominique, despite her classic beauty, had all the social skills and warmth of an icicle. The air near her hummed with strictly controlled energy. Perhaps the apathy was helpful; otherwise, Jessica might have been tempted to kill Dominique on the spot.
Unlike the Smoke line, Jessica knew Dominique and her kin well. Dominique had murdered so many of the vampires that Jessica had known and cared for that the girl had developed a deep hatred for the witch before she had even met her.
Only when Caryn put a hand on her shoulder did Jessica realize that she was glaring death in Dominique’s direction. The vampire hunter was fully returning the glare.
“What is she doing here?” Dominique demanded.
Caryn took the initiative to lead Jessica away and into a guest room while Hasana dealt with Dominique’s questions.
“You should get some rest,” Caryn suggested, trying to pull Jessica out of her inner world of death and pain and hatred.
“Only if there’s a way to make sure no one kills me in my sleep,” Jessica answered, looking out the door as if Dominique might walk down the hall any moment.
Caryn looked horrified. “She wouldn’t …” She trailed off. “Why would she want to hurt you?”
Jessica shrugged. That question had an easy answer at least. “Because I can’t help hating her,” she answered truthfully. “And because she knows I would rather be a vampire than risk being their prey” Jessica thought back to poor Anne, who was just as dead no matter how many vampires Dominique and her kin had killed.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” answered Dominique, who had just entered the room, with Hasana behind her. Caryn paled.
“No one is going to hurt anyone in my household,” Hasana said firmly. “Jessica, you don’t know what you’re saying right now —”
“She knows,” Dominique interrupted. Turning to Jessica, she said bluntly, “If you’d rather be with them, then go. I won’t stop you. But if you choose their side, then I won’t protect you, either.”
“I don’t need your protection,” Jessica growled in answer.
“Jessica, please, get some rest,” Hasana coaxed. “Dominique, leave the poor girl alone. Her mother was just murdered.” She ushered Dominique out of the room. The hunter went willingly; she had said all she needed to say.
Jessica had no desire to sleep, and she told Caryn as much.
“You should try,” Caryn answered. “It will help clear your mind.”
Instead, Jessica began to pace.
Caryn caught her arm, and only a few seconds later, sleep enveloped her. Later the thought occurred to her that despite Caryn’s usual passivity she was still a strong witch. She had easily induced sleep in Jessica’s strained mind.
Jazlyn said no. Immortality was not what she wanted. She wanted to be left alone and given time to grieve. Even this was denied her.
A week after Carl’s death, Jazlyn learned that she was pregnant. Looking at her, no one would have been able to tell, but the tests had returned positive. Why would the universe not leave her alone? She was only twenty-five, and she was a widow. How could she raise a child by herself? Carl’s child deserved better than what she, who was still in mourning, could provide.
A cruel God gave her this life.
The next time Siete visited, Jazlyn did not say no. She knew that whatever life she woke up in would not be the life she was leaving.
But any decision made out of desperation is later regretted. The world of eternal night and lawlessness was no better than the human world she had fled, yet Jazlyn had no more choices.
The years passed and faded, meaningless and empty. Often Jazlyn found herself remembering things like the beach on which Carl had proposed. She remembered being married outdoors and honeymooning in France.
Tears came frequently. This was not what she had wanted at all.
Just past Valentine’s Day 1983, Jazlyn visited Carl’s grave for the first time since his funeral. She brushed off the thin layer of snow and read the stone for the first time: “Carl Raisa, 1932– 1960. ‘I shall smile from Heaven upon those I love. My death is not my end, and in Heaven shall I meet my beloved again.
But he wouldn’t, because she was never going to reach Heaven. Her kind was evil; she had killed so many times to sate the bloodlust that she would never be forgiven.
Jazlyn lay weeping in the snowy graveyard that Valentine’s night, wondering why the world had chosen her to torment.
That was where the witch who called herself Monica Smoke had found her — weeping there for the one she loved. Monica was the first one in more than twenty years who offered her a shoulder to cry on. Then she heard the story and gave Jazlyn the one thing she had thought could never be returned: her life.