I scramble to my feet, backing up as the man did the same. A cold, empty expression fell across his face as he adjusted his cloak. His posture shifted, straightening.

  “I will not break the law of refuge,” the man said, his voice cold and haughty.

  With a flourish of his cloak, he turned and stalked away from me, not looking back.

  My heart pounded in my chest and my hands shook as I picked my way through the forest, cursing my lack of shoes and my terrible luck.

  Definitely not a sign from the goddess. Perhaps it was a sign I should just become a priestess and be done with the matter.

  I stepped onto the path just as Aunt Bree rounded the corner.

  “There you are!” she said, grabbing my wrist. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We need to go now if we want to attend the midnight service.”

  I jogged to keep up with Aunt Bree’s fast pace.

  “I was thinking,” I said.

  “What now, dear?”

  “Maybe studying to be a priestess is a good idea after all.”

  “That’s great! Of course, if you don’t make it through your studies nothing’s lost,” Aunt Bree said with a wide smile. “Your parents would be proud you gave it a try.”

  I forced myself to smile. I really hope this is the right call.

  ***

  I couldn’t concentrate on the midnight service, or sleep soundly that night. Every small noise in the night jolted me to attention, snapping my senses into focus and sending a rush of adrenaline through me. But that man didn’t attack me. Not that night, or that next day, or the next night or day.

  I went about my steady routine: morning classes at the temple, then errands in town on my way back home and homework in the afternoons. Aunt Bree was out all day, working in a shop in town. Her friend Mr. Wilder stopped by most evenings for dinner, talking about the new pack we were joining, which he was also a part of. Soon more than a week passed without any sign of an attack.

  The second Thursday after the incident I found myself walking home from lessons once again. I shifted my hold on the grocery bags I carried as I ran through a mental list of chores.

  Groceries are picked up, library books are returned, and the documents delivered to Mr. Wilder at the newspaper. All done for the day.

  I walked along the path that led through a wooded park that cut through town. Just beyond it was home.

  A tree branch snapped, the sound echoing in the forest. I whirled around, heart pounding in my ears.

  That man stood three feet from me, a long dagger in his hand. His expression was dark and focused, as if honing in on his prey.

  I stumbled back, then gathered magic in my hands. I formed the energy into a flash of blindingly bright light, throwing it at the man’s face and running down the path as fast as I could.

  It wasn’t enough. I could hear him right behind me.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I dropped my bags of groceries. The rounder contents of my bags—cans and fruits and such—rolled over the walking trail behind me.

  I gathered my magic in my hands, formless and wild, my mind straining to keep it in place as I ran. My lungs burned and my limbs felt like lead and it felt like I was running in slow motion.

  Faster. I need to go faster!

  The man materialized in front of me. I shrieked, tossing my magic at him without thinking. The raw power slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground.

  I kept running, turning off the main path and to one that wound behind the house. I could still sense that man running behind me.

  Even if I get to the house…

  I gathered a mass of magic in my hands, shaping it into a mesmerizing spell. I wasn’t very good at them, and they cost a lot of magical energy, but maybe I could get him to slow down.

  A soft, melodic tune filled the air, coming from my magic.

  Sleep. You want to sleep.

  I focused on the magic, bending and twisting it into complicated spellwork as I tried desperately to get that man to stop. I was getting dizzy now, the vertigo worsening with each second I grappled with my spell.

  Sleep. Please sleep.

  I stumbled, nearly faceplanting. As I corrected myself, the spell slipped from my grasp.

  Hands grabbed me by the neck, squeezing just enough to make me wheeze. I froze, eyes widening as I looked up to see a boy, no older than fifteen or sixteen, with wavy black hair, pale skin, and dark red eyes the color of dried blood. His face looked like that man’s, but sharper and younger and… meaner. And his clothes, a light grey suit, looked much like that man’s too. The boy looked down his nose at me, his smile and eyes arrogant, as if I was nothing but a pest.

  Beyond the boy was a middle-aged woman, her greying black hair long and loose, her dried-blood red eyes shining as if she was a cat that had finally captured its prey. Her face was angular and very similar to the boy’s. Her long grey skirt and white blouse matched the boy’s suit, and she wore a burnt red pin with the crest of a house over her heart.

  The matron of a vampire house. And two of her relatives, probably her sons or nephews.

  Adrenaline surged through me, my shifter magic desperate to escape and free me. I couldn’t breath, couldn’t move. There was nothing. No opening. No way out. I clawed at the boy’s hand as my lungs screamed

  “Good job Narvi, dear,” the vampire matron said, her voice silky and sickly-sweet, cutting through my panic like a blade digging into my head. “Excelent use of force and tactical maneuvering."

  “Thank you, mother,” the boy said.

  “Tarian!” the woman snapped, her voice suddenly harsh and biting. “How could you, heir to my house, my own son, not manage to catch a young girl? Your brother has managed it just fine.”

  “I apologize for my incompetence, mother,” that man said. “Please punish me as you see fit.”

  The woman gritted her teeth. “I will.”

  She turned on her heels. “Narvi, darling, give her to your brother. He’ll take care of her for now.”

  Narvi dropped me and I collapsed into a heap on the ground. I gasped for air, coughing and hacking so hard tears pricked my eyes. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

  Go. Run. Leave.

  That man, Tarian, pulled me to my feet, holding my wrists in one hand. He pulled me forward, toward the road.

  No! No! No!

  “Let go! Help! Somebody!” I screamed, digging my heels into the ground, wriggling to try and break free.

  My heart pounded in my ears as I struggled, my breaths ragged and I didn’t want to be a slave to a vampire. I didn’t want to go with them. But I wasn’t strong enough. Tarian yanked on my wrists, dragging me onto a little side road. Two cars were parked in the street.

  Narvi opened the door to the nearest car. Tarian scooped me up and shoved me into the back seat of the car, closing the door behind me with a bang.

  I picked myself up and threw myself at the door. Locked.

  Tarian slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. I lunged at him, reaching for the button to unlock the door.

  I slammed into something hard. A barrier?

  “No one can hear or see you,” Tarian said, his gaze sharp as he looked back at me. “If you wish to survive, you will cooperate.”

  I banged on the car window. “Help! Help me! Somebody!”

  The car began to move forward as I yanked at the door handle, tears running down my face.

  There was nothing I could do. I was completely, utterly, helpless.