Nothing is ever going to be completely normal in the life of a half-vampire. Camila has always accepted that "normal" is something she'll never experience. But what happens when her old and new families go to war? What happens when a man, who is com...
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Frost's POV
Tonight was a success in my book. Camila is grinning from ear to ear. Her idea was a hit. She also got to have a night inside the world she deserves to know. This is the world she will one day come to rule in.
We remain in the club until everyone has left. The sun will be up in close to an hour. Soon after the place is empty, Camila and I walk towards the car with a few of my guys and Quinn still following us. Before I step into the car, however, I feel that my wallet isn't in my back pocket. I forgot that I had set it down on the bar inside.
"Wait here for a second," I say to Camila. "I'll be back."
I walk back inside not knowing that it will be the biggest mistake of my life. Quickly taking my wallet and going back outside, I hear it. A distinct scream pierces my eardrums as I rush towards the car. Swords clash near where I left Camila.
Finally coming into view, I see her and the daywalker, Blade, in a sword fight. All of my other guys are either dead or unconscious. I run towards them as her sword is knocked from her hand. He swipes her off her feet, and she lands hard on the concrete on her back.
Blade throws her over his shoulder, unfazed by her struggling. As I reach them, I am hit by something. It's not enough to kill me—whatever it is—but it does send a searing pain through my body as I fall to the ground. Everything seems to go fuzzy.
"Daddy!" I hear her scream. "DADDY!"
Camila's POV
I don't even know where I am now. The man I've heard called Blade injected me with something that knocked me out. I'm not sure how long I've been here. All I know is I'm in a dark room, and I was taken from my dad by the daywalker.
"Hello," I hear someone say gently. The voice isn't Blade's. This is someone new. I must've been more out of it than I thought. I never even heard the door open.
"Who are you?" I ask rather harshly.
"My name is Abraham Whistler," he replies, stepping out of the shadows. He is an older man with a grey beard and matching grey, chin-length hair. "Might I ask, little one, what your name is?"
The man named Whistler seems very calm, gentle in his manner, but I know better. His gruff voice and hard appearance give him away. He's a hunter—same as Blade. This is a ruse to get me to drop my guard. I only stare at him silently in response.
"I'm guessing I'm not gonna get much out of you," he continues. "Not that I blame you."
"And explain to me exactly why I would give you anything. You wanna kill me. Same as the daywalker."
"That, Missy, is where you are wrong."
"Uh huh. Sure. I was chased while going to school, attacked, and taken away from my dad. Correct me if I'm wrong."
"Well, kid," he sighs. "You're not, but here's the thing, if I can ask a couple questions, you might just see my way of thinking."
"Why would I let you do that?"
"Don't you want to prove me wrong?"
"Fine then. Fire away, Whistler."
Whistler's POV
"I'm gonna start easy," I explain. "You know what Deacon Frost is, correct?"
"He's a vampire," she tells me as if this is a question she hears every other Tuesday.
"Alright. Good. I'm guessing you know what that means."
"He ages extremely slowly. That's why he still appears 25. His blood can't sustain hemoglobin—the part of the red blood cell that carries oxygen. He needs blood to survive. Often that means he will drink human blood. All of this makes him stronger, faster, and more aware than humans."
"Smart girl. The nightclubs he owns..."
"What about them?"
"You are aware they've dragged humans in there, correct?"
"I mean, sure," she says. I know I'm starting to get her. "Vampires have to feed on something."
"And you know they don't walk out?"
"I mean... sometimes... b-but humans... they can't know about us. They'll kill us. Just like you guys try to."
"Do you think that's really the reason?"
"Y-yes."
Less sure of that answer, weren't we?
"You know why Mr. Frost lets them in there. You know his views on humans. They're nothing more than food to him."
"No. That's- No. I mean..."
"You know I'm right."
"But my mom was..."
Her eyes go wide. She knows she's backed herself into a corner—both involving her identity and who Frost really is. I watch the poor girl try to think of other explanations. This kid is exactly who I thought she was—Frost's child.
"I'm sorry," I start softly. "I'm sure this isn't an easy thing to find out about your daddy."
"But he's..." as she speaks, I hear her voice get smaller and less confident. Her spunk has seemed to leave her. "No. You're just trying to confuse me. My dad isn't a monster. He's- he's- he's my daddy."
Part of me feels sorry for the kid. I can tell she truly loves her dad. She didn't ask for him to be a psychotic vampire. All she asked was for him to be a father to her. In truth, I almost believe that's truly what she got. As many faults as the man has, I can never say that Frost does not care about his daughter.
"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry."
I hear her muttering to herself over and over again, "He's not a monster." I don't think I need to do any more persuading. She believes me now. She might have known before now and tried to convince herself otherwise. Now, there's no more hiding from the truth.
