Changeling (Book 1) Rated R

Chapter 40

In the darkness, I found ghosts.

First Ally, wearing a white gown, as if she wasn't already enough of a cliche, her eyes two black, empty ovals.

As I continued further, passing prison cells as I went, I couldn't ignore the entities that shifted behind the metal bars.

I swallowed hard.

Their presence was draining, a thing I could feel pressing on my shoulders.

Growing tired, I stumbled.

That's when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. My father, only with soulless eyes.

I swallowed hard, tearing my eyes away from him but he was the most difficult to ignore.

In this world of dark magic, they trailed after me, my ghosts, my companions.

But there was only one mission in my mind and it wasn't to mourn the dead, nor be afraid of what their black, monstrous eyes could possibly mean.

The only thing that mattered was finding Christian.

"Christian." I hissed.

I heard chains rattle first and then a hoarse, "Bloody hell, even in my dreams I hear her voice," he went on with a low, breathy chuckle.

I could see his cell, my ghosts behind me, a cool sensation at the back of my neck letting me know they were still there.

A flash of anger coursed through my veins, a shocking current that both surprised and terrified me.

Clouds of dark smoke rose from my skin, like a caress, only one that burned.

"You look like you could use some saving, vampire boy." I said, coming to stand in front of his cell, ignoring the burning on my skin. Ignoring the eerie sound of my voice.

Raising his head, his blue eyes scanned me.

Instead of relief, or happiness, his eyes were two exclamation points of shock.

"Aimee, what are you doing? You need to get out of here!"

Frowning, I met his gaze with one of confusion. "I'm here to bust you out. I think the words you're looking for are thank you."

Shaking his head, he stood, and flinched.

That's when I got a good look at him, at the torn, blood-soaked t-shirt clinging to his chest, the purple bruises underneath.

Hot, fiery anger scorched through me.

My ghosts rejoiced, electrifying me with their touch, anxiously awaiting the explosion.

Christian grimaced, his blue eyes scanning me with worry.

"I'm going to kill him," I said, in an eerie tone that sounded so foreign to my own ears.

Christian approached the bars, one hand reaching out toward me.

"You're using dark magic." he said. "You need to stop. It will only hurt you."

"What are you talking about?" I muttered. "I've never felt better."

His fingers brushed my cheek and he flinched.

When he pulled his hand back, his palm was red and raw, the remnants of black smoke disappearing from his skin.

"Aimee, baby, please, stop using dark magic. You don't need to do this for me."

A buzzing started up in my ears, my ghosts, purring to me, their voices growing louder and louder.

"Shut up!" I told them.